District 2 Academy: Hollow Waves
by Brodrin Locke
Summary: District 2 Academy is the home of the infamous and lethal careers. Brodrin Locke is one career that has plans to make the 72nd Hunger Games quite memorable.
1. Chapter 1 - Bull's-Eye

**Chapter 1 – Bull's-Eye**

Brodrin Locke stared into the water, letting a single finger kiss the surface. Then he brought it up again to make a tiny ripple. The liquid echoes glinted off the sunlight.

Sometimes, he'd find himself doing this for several minutes at a time, but today he only had a few more seconds before training would begin. Still, a little time was better than none. The water calmed him for some reason. It looked smooth and flawless, without a visible speck of imperfection.

Miniature rivers of water, known as the Canals, covered the entire ground floor of the building's structure. Massive pillars of varying size stood scattered across the area, supporting the upper levels that made up District 2 Academy.

Brodrin grimaced as the monotone, dull buzz echoed through every crevice of the school. It only lasted exactly three seconds, but after hearing it day after day, it always felt longer than that. And so he slowly got to his feet, still keeping his eyes on the shallow water.

The Canals went in all directions, making rigid L-shaped turns when necessary. They were imbedded three feet deep into the marble floors, which had a light blue tint to them. Each canal spanned five feet in width and the dimensions for each were exactly identical.

Brodrin walked down one of the pale-grey pathways towards the two exceptionally large elevators that rested in the center of the academy. They were the main way anyone got around. So, as per usual, there was a large group of students crowding around the doors.

The pathways allowed the students to traverse across the Canals with ease, as the walkways often simply ran straight through the narrow bodies of water, with miniature bridges that slightly looped upwards and over the liquid.

When he reached the looming crowd of students waiting to enter the elevators, he didn't hesitate in making his way to the front. "Move," he said to one younger boy. "Are you trying to make it a bad day for yourself?"

Most of these students were younger than him, but he could have cared less as to how old they were. He was 18, and so months away from graduating. Though his definition of graduation would be very different from most.

Brodrin made it to the front just as the elevator doors opened. He got in first, leaning on the wall. The other students waited until it was obvious that Brodrin had gotten comfortable. Then everyone else huddled in, making a point to leave a bit of space around him. Another day of training waited at the top, and another day would soon be out of the way.

* * *

With a deafening thud, the bottom of Brodrin's foot collided with his opponent's chest. The fighter hit the mat hard.

Brodrin didn't bother with another attack. The guy was down, and he wasn't getting up quickly. Other careers surrounded the two, all paired in groups and sparring with padded gloves and shin guards. Noises of physical exertion and bodies hitting the blue mats filled the massive hall.

Today was a hand-to-hand day. It wasn't his favorite, but he knew it to be crucial. They'd already gone through the disarming exercises, as well as the submission techniques. Now it was on to the sparring, which he didn't mind. _Putting these brats on their asses never gets old,_ he thought to himself.

"Walk it off there bud," he said.

Still on the ground, the other fighter shot back, "Screw you Brodrin!"

"Calm down Amaren. Fighting without a cool head will just increase the chance that yours will get cracked open," said a voice from behind Brodrin.

Allexin Black strode up to the downed fighter. He threw out a hand to help him up. This was Allexin's first year as Head Trainer for the District 2 careers. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm good." He maneuvered around Allexin so that he was facing Brodrin again. "Let's go again," he said through gritted teeth.

"I like the can-do attitude," he said with a smirk.

"This time keep your hands out a bit more." Allexin put a hand on Amaren's shoulder. "They are too close to your body right now. Even if you deflect the blow, it's still landing." Amaren nodded without breaking eye contact with his still-smirking opponent.

Brodrin did an unnecessary stretch as Amaren stalked forward with his fists up, appearing lethal.

* * *

The two men in white coats gently rolled the stretcher that carried Amaren out of the training hall. His eyes were closed, and he was covering his face with one arm.

Brodrin watched with his arms crossed for a bit before heading over to a punching bag in one of the corners of the massive hall. His punches and kicks remained even and controlled as the bag swayed from the blows.

"Proud of yourself?" Allexin stood behind him, likely analyzing Brodrin's technique and form.

"If he can't shrug off a concussion before the Emulate, than he should just stay home." His attacks began to increase in power and speed.

"Do you enjoy making enemies?" he asked.

"Do you really care about Amaren that much?" he asked in between soft grunts. "I'll let you in on a little secret, he's a prick."

"It's not Amaren that's my concern. From where I'm standing that bull's-eye on your back is getting bigger and bigger. Eventually it's going to cost you."

"Oh I bet."

"Alright smartass."

"Later Scruff," he said. Scruff was Allexin's unofficial nickname because he refused to shave. No one else grew out any facial hair in the academy. The students only referred to him as Scruff when talking about him in private, but they never called him that to his face. Disrespectful actions toward any instructional staff member proved quite risky.

"Your hips aren't twisting enough when you kick with your left," Allexin said as he left Brodrin to his battle with the inanimate object.

Brodrin paused for a second steadying the bag, trying to ignore the Head Trainer's comment. The guy knew how to get into Brodrin's head, which aggravated him greatly. He then started to increase the number of kicks with his left leg.

The Emulate was in just a few days, and there was no room for error.


	2. Chapter 2 - Careers

**Chapter 2 - Careers**

Kaylor Valden had watched as the two men in porcelain-white carried Amaren out the doors. He felt guilty, yet he couldn't help but grin at the sight of Amaren getting a taste of his own medicine.

Kaylor had found himself on the wrong end of his temper several times. The defeated career had a talent for being naturally unlikable. In the most recent weeks, he'd come into a habit of taking some of Kaylor's food during lunch. He never ate it, as the careers always got plenty to eat. Amaren, on the other hand, enjoyed the simple things. In this case, it meant throwing the food at some of the birds once classes were finished. Even though he was aiming straight at them, the birds often found the sustenance worth the edible bombardment.

There were over 150 careers at the Academy. All of them were present in the massive training room. Their kicks and punches appeared so fluid, hinting at the familiarity of the actions.

The training session was just about over and the careers were beginning to toss their equipment into a pungent pile, just as they always did, which Kaylor didn't mind. He just wished they were more consistent about it. The first person to throw their gear away pretty much decided where the pile would start, making everything rather random. Sometimes the mound of sweat-ridden gear would rise up close to the lockers, which Kaylor's day much easier. However, sometimes the gear would end up at the other end of the training hall, just like today.

He grabbed a large armful of moist pads and gloves, trying to hold his breath as he carried them across the room.

"I swear these things always smell worse than the day before." The voice came from behind Kaylor.

He looked back and saw Allexin Black carrying his own burden of equipment. "Head Trainer you don't have to do that. I've got it." Kaylor always cleaned up by himself. If he only received no help, he found it fortunate. Oftentimes, two or three careers would hang around, trying to make his job even more difficult, making a game of it.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," he said, quickening his pace almost to a run in order to unload his cargo as soon as possible.

"Sorry Mr. Allexin sir," Kaylor said with a mischievous smile, arriving at the locker doors with the head trainer.

Allexin dropped the equipment at his feet, finally allowing himself to take a decent breath of air. He grabbed one of the shin pads and lightly threw it at Kaylor. "Nice sass, been hanging out with Brodrin lately?"

"You kidding?" Kaylor chuckled as he easily blocked the projectile. "The Lone Wolf hunts alone," he said in gruff voice.

Allexin laughed. "Well that's lucky for me. Don't need his _friendly_ personality rubbing off on you," he said. "You're the one student I can stand in this place."

"It's my natural charm."

"Tell anyone and I'll deny it," he said as the two made their way back for another vile load.

"And ruin my bad-boy reputation? I would never."

The process of getting all the equipment to the locker went twice as fast with Allexin's help. When they finished, Kaylor opened the door to the locker, planning to prepare the washers.

Allexin held out his hand. "Hold off on that for a second."

"What's up?" he asked.

"I wanted to talk to you."

Kaylor gave him with a puzzled look.

"How're you holding up?"

He leaned against the wall, avoiding eye contact with the head trainer. "I'm good."

"Listen, I appreciate all your help here. I really do, but I can't fight the idea that this is just hurting—"

"Allexin. I'm fine," he made another move for the pile of stench. "This whole place is going to start smelling like dead carcasses if we don't get these in the washers soon."

He put his arms on his waist, his face looking deep in thought, as if he was torn about what to say next. "I'll get those. You just get on home."

Usually Kaylor would decline his offer and finish up. But he didn't want to give Allexin the opportunity to bring it up again. "I'll see you tomorrow." He went out the large doors and through the mostly vacant hallway of the academy. Most of the students and guides had gone home. The walls were pasty white, with some blue lines that ran the length of each side of the hall.

A few of the halls had screens that were strategically placed in the areas with the most amount of student traffic. They were set high up the walls so that the mobs of students wouldn't obscure one's view of them. The screens often had general announcements or promotional messages about how to become a peacekeeper. Today one read, 'District before family.'

Under one such screen stood four careers. Kaylor made an effort to act like they didn't exist as he strode by.

"Just getting a little extra practice in?" one of the careers asked with a teasing grin. He was the tallest. Still, he wasn't taller than Kaylor.

"You know me," he said, abruptly stopping in the middle of the hall. "Always training."

"Looking a little scrawny lately, maybe you need to work on your lifting," another one said. Three of the four of them laughed.

Each of them appeared at least twice as strong as Kaylor, but that was only because they absolutely were. Kaylor's thin, slightly lanky arms dangled at his sides.

"I'm more of a cardio guy. But you guys on the other hand," he gave them a thumbs up. "Looking quite deadly. You must be so excited for the preliminaries. I know I am." Kaylor knew everyone's ranking and these four were among the lowest.

However, his sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by the careers. They glared at him for a second before the leader spoke up. "We need to put you in your place again Valden?"

He put up his hands as if to show evidence of his harmlessness. "Hey, I'm pulling for you guys. I really am." He was pushing it, and he knew it. He began to slowly back away, still facing the toxic bunch.

He made brief eye contact with the one who hadn't laughed earlier. He seemed rather stressed at the situation. His name was Jarrett, and Kaylor had known him well once. "Come on guys," Jarrett said. "I'm hungry." It was enough to diffuse the others, who nodded in agreement.

Kaylor then turned around and continued to make his way towards the main elevator, letting out a sigh of relief.

The elevator housed two rather large screens that rested on opposing walls. Today the message stated the simple and too-well-known truth. The day that careers trained their whole lives for; the day that everyone in the academy looked forward to, career or not, would soon arrive.

In a large font, the screen read, "The Emulate begins tomorrow!"


	3. Chapter 3 - Class Dismissed

**Chapter 3 – Class Dismissed**

Brodrin stared out at the green fields surrounding the Academy from the classroom's window. The mountain ranges looked like harmless jaws, scraping the skyline. He thoroughly enjoyed getting lost in the sight of the lake that rested below, at the base of the closest mountain. He couldn't help but think that the green-blue water would taste of sugar.

There was almost always something moving around that mountain peak called the Nut. Most of the time it was a hovercraft, but you never would see a bird anywhere close to it. He couldn't blame them. _Who wants to share the skies with those graceless hunks of metal anyway_?

Brodrin had seen firsthand what happened to the over-adventurous birds that got too close to them. The machines could take off at incredible speeds, obliterating anything in their way.

Kaylor's voice snapped him out of his trance. From his desk, just barely in earshot, he observed the interaction that arose in the doorway to the classroom.

Two students had taken it upon themselves to inadvertently barricade the doorway with their bodies. They were loud kissers, and the visual wasn't any better.

Kaylor waited in front of them. His hand went to the back of his neck as he tried to look anywhere but directly at them. Kaylor had smooth hair, the color of chestnut, which hung halfway down his forehead. After a few more awkward moments, he cleared his throat.

Coen and Lexa halted their passionate moment in order to glare at him. "Can we help you?" the girl replied coldly. The couple had been together for three months, but they always talked about their relationship like their 50-year anniversary was coming up. Somehow, they'd managed to convince themselves that every person with the gift of sight wanted to see them eating each other's mouths.

"I just need to sneak by," Kaylor motioned past them.

"You can wait," Coen said. He leaned in towards Lexa's face again.

"Could you maybe just go over to your usual spot?" he asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

"What do you mean our 'usual spot'?" she asked, theatrically offended.

Kaylor always talked faster than the average person. The longer he spoke without a break, the faster he'd get. "You two always go in that corner in the back," he pointed to the spot. "Then you grab her butt, and she yells at you for doing it in public. Personally, I don't understand why you get angry. You two have done everything but have sex in the halls," he chuckled. "Is the class that different of a setting?"

Brodrin chuckled into his hand, and Coen let his laughter boom towards Kaylor. "Runt is right ya know. You should just let me grab it." He shoved Kaylor back into the hall as he took his leave toward his seat in the classroom.

Lexa glared at Kaylor. "Maybe if you weren't so creepy you'd have an easier time."

"Where's the fun in that?" he asked. Then he strolled to his seat in front of Brodrin.

Our guide entered the room with his unnaturally straight posture. He made no attempt to look at a single face in the room. Guide Shevan was extremely thin, even more so than Kaylor. His bony face held an everlasting look of boredom, no matter the situation.

All the guides wore the same thin, long-sleeved uniform. The attire of the guides contrasted slightly from the rest of the students, with the guides clothed in dark blue and the careers clothed in a light, sea blue.

"Now I understand today will be hard for you to concentrate, as I know most of you will be competing in the Emulate. I wish you all a safe contest, and as I've been saying all week, we mustn't forget our alternative purpose here at the academy. So let's begin," he said with a monotone voice.

All students in the room were careers. The classes were sectioned off so that all the careers resided in rooms together, while all the other students got placed in the rooms left over. Careers received the best equipment and guides. Perks for paying extra for your kid to get in the program. Since the actual training was technically illegal, the academy lazily labeled it as an afterschool activity for self-defense that parents could pay extra for, but since the program produced so many peacekeepers, the Capitol seemed like it would get angry if the training did get shut down.

"Now we'll start right where we left off with the fourth tool that revolutionized the stone mining process…"

Brodrin could barely focus on that one sentence before he blocked out Shevan's voice and just began staring at random things in the room. Paloma kept tapping her left leg so fast that it looked like an engine powered it. Liana kept glancing back nervously at Brodrin. Brekk just twirled something between his fingers.

Most had worked all their young lives to get here. The only one who wouldn't participate was Kaylor. He trained harder than any kid Brodrin had ever seen, but heart doesn't always make up for it.

"Brodrin Locke. Would you be so kind as to actually initiate your desk," Shevan hissed from the front of the room.

He threw up his middle finger at the guide, and then continued to stare out the window, wearing a look of boredom. Several chuckles and gasps filled the room, but they were stifled by Shevan's stare.

Now that the Emulate was so close, Brodrin had grown bolder with every passing day. He always stayed quiet and out of the way of the guides, but when they'd try to call him out, he never cooperated.

Shevan was no pushover. Most students would rather fight a bear than piss him off. Still, the guide was no idiot. He understood the politics. Victors in 2 instantly became some of the most powerful people in the district. It wasn't just the wealth that automatically came along with winning, as the prestige proved priceless.

A victor could get much of what he or she desired, including revenge on someone who pissed them off before the games. Like most, the guides of the academy hadn't found a way to exempt themselves from this system. Another 10 minutes went by and Brodrin gracefully flicked his finger in the upper right hand corner of the desk. The once glass-like panel now found itself covered in a menu selection with several topics and categories to choose from. With a few more taps of his finger he was on the correct chapter with a picture on the left and text on the right, decorating his desk.

Brodrin always got his work done. He wasn't the best student in class, but fools never last long in a fight. The guides went over a lot of lessons that could prove helpful in the games.

Suddenly the insignia of the Capitol, with a stylized 2 right in the center, flashed across the wall behind Shevan. Patriotic music played softly through the halls and classrooms. The same electronic glass that served as the careers' desks covered the entire wall behind the guide. Everyone in the room leapt to their feet with impressive reaction time. Brodrin remained in his seat. The others stood stiffly, facing forward making less noise than a stone.

Classes ended early today on account of the special occasion.

"You may all depart. Good luck to all of you," Shevan said with actually a bit of sincerity in his voice. He glared at Brodrin the whole way out the door.


	4. Chapter 4 - Appetites

**Chapter 4 – Appetites**

Kaylor plopped his tray of food down on the rectangular table between two fellow students. Laughs and conversation filled the lunch hall and the orderly rows of lunch tables covered most of the space. The over-processed food gave off a distinct smell, similar to cleaning supplies, but the students were too accustomed to it to notice.

"No way is Jason going to win it!" one boy said. "You act like he's the next Selvand Lesput."

Another replied, "He's got a better chance than Coen! He barely knows which part of the sword to hold." Laughter followed as the two quarreled.

A neat line of teenagers waited for their food, which was distributed by the staff. They gave out portions from a room with a small square opening leading out to the hall. The room had a door in the back that led to the kitchen, which no kid ever saw.

Kaylor enjoyed lunch just like every other student in the academy. It was a chance to not worry about sitting up straight, or not paying enough attention to the guides.

A few of the people at his table were actually pretty cool, but none of them were careers. As a result, sitting with them reminded him of what he wasn't anymore. This thought always made him feel selfish.

Ella nudged him. "You excited?"

He smiled, "A smidge." He always liked Ella, but she had eyes for one of the careers. The guy was an asshole, but he didn't hold that against her. Juggling razor blades was easier than locating a neighborly career.

She hit him playfully. "The one day everyone can't shut up about the stupid thing, and you're just quiet."

"Stupid?" He changed to a whisper, "You're the one who loves one of those _stupid_ careers."

"The Emulate is stupid, but if that's what makes the cute ones work out so much than whatever," she said. "Anything for the sake of abs."

"And to think, some people hear have the _audacity_ to call you shallow."

She winked and went back to the food on her tray. The portions were exact for each student. All food that came in solid form was cut into exact, identical squares, fitting perfectly into one of the dividers on the mint green tray. Each day there was a vegetable, a protein, some bread, and a piece of fruit. On Fridays they had a dessert as well. Today's dessert was a cookie with raisins in it. Kaylor could almost completely conceal the cookie from sight by holding it in his hand.

Windows covered exactly half of the cream-white hall. However, the windows weren't massive, so the seats right by them came at a premium. The careers got all of the tables adjacent to the windows. However, the segregation wasn't academy policy, it had simply been that way since anyone could remember.

Brodrin sat at his own solitary table, the only person in the academy to do so. He sat next to the best window in the room, as it overlooked the nearby lake at a perfect angle that wasn't available from any other viewpoints because of the mountains.

Two years ago, two older careers followed through on a dare to sit at his table before he got there. Brodrin didn't yell or threaten. He simply walked across the hall and sat down on the other side of the table, eating in silence. Barely anyone in the hall finished his or her food that day. They all just watched to see if he'd smash a face in with his tray.

For the rest of the day, the two walked around like they'd just won the Emulate, making jokes about how Brodrin was all talk. The next week, both went to the Rez Deck, one for a broken jaw and the other for a ruptured spleen. You can't get in trouble for training accidents.

Kaylor couldn't stop thinking about earlier in the week when Brodrin had sent Amaren to the Rez Deck. It had confirmed some particular suspicions of his. As a result, he found himself deliberating if he should approach the sullen career.

Lunch was the best opportunity to do so, as Allexin usually kept him pretty busy during training sessions, and Brodrin would usually vanish immediately after the session finished. Besides class and training, the guy was a ghost. No one ever saw him outside of that.

He stared at his cookie, trying to will himself to get up off the bench.

"You going to eat that?" Ella asked, trying to sound innocent.

Kaylor handed her the cookie, receiving a quick kiss on the cheek. Though he had never admitted it to her, Ella knew how he felt about her. Sometimes she wasn't afraid to exploit it a little.

He then forced himself to stand up and make his way across the hall, his empty tray in hand. As he approached, he inhaled deeply. "Hey Brodrin, sorry to disturb your lunch." He hadn't touched his food, likely because of the Emulate. "I just wanted to say thanks for—"

Suddenly Kaylor slammed into the nearby wall, his tray clanging to the floor. Hallie now stood where he had been, her stance full of confidence. She stared straight at Brodrin, who looked the exact opposite of amused.

"Brodrin," she said.

"Why are either of you talking to me?" he used his eating utensil to point at Kaylor and her.

She looked at Kaylor for a split second, bewildered, as if just noticing his presence. "I don't know what the reject is doing here. I'm here because I'm tired of waiting."

He languidly popped a blueberry into his mouth. "Waiting for what?"

She gave an impatient sigh, "It's been long enough. I think it's about time we slept together."

He momentarily choked on the piece of fruit.

Hallie was almost all muscle. She had very broad shoulders and a square face, which often wore a knowing smirk. Today wasn't an exception.

"You and I are coming out as the winners of the Emulate. Everyone knows that. I want to try out the best." She placed her surprisingly small hands on the table. "Don't you?"

"Hard pass," he said.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, I get what I want and I'm the only person here who isn't afraid of you."

"Why are words still pouring out of your face?" He swiftly rose up from the table to dispose of his tray.

Suddenly, Kaylor found himself face to face with a very sexually frustrated career. She stared him down, with her arms crossed, analyzing him. "Wait what did you want with him?"

Her curious gaze made him fidget in place. "I wasn't hitting on him too. Promise."

She laughed and went back over to a table of girls that had been watching intently. The gang of gals followed Hallie everywhere, doing her every bidding. When she sat down, Niah Prellemor fidgeted with a tuft of hair that seemed out of place. It was no secret that the five of them would have a very coordinated alliance in the Emulate.

Like the rest of the careers, Hallie wasn't a ball of sunshine. However, she never went out of her way to bully Kaylor. If anyone opposed her, they'd be in for a world of hurt, but he found it easy to stay out of her way.

Suddenly the bell rang, silencing everyone in the lunch hall for a moment. Then, as if on cue, everyone rushed from the table benches towards the exits. The Emulate was about to begin.


	5. Chapter 5 - Dreams Stay Dreams

**Chapter 5 – Dreams Stay Dreams**

Brodrin kept his walk down the busy hallway at a brisk pace, doing his best to hide his excitement. The first day of the Emulate couldn't have gotten here any slower. Students sprinted down the hallways. Most didn't mind subtly pushing each other, as the mob moved down the halls toward the training hall.

During the Emulate, the hallway screens always showed something different than usual. Instead of the unimpressive advisory quotes, they all simultaneously showed one of two images. Half the screens showcased the highlights of one of the greats, Braven Akerrard. The others followed in the same fashion, except that the scenes consisted of the heroic moments of Selvand Lesput.

Braven was short and quite good-looking. At first glance, he looked too small to do any real harm to anyone over the age of 10. However, he moved like a dancer with the speed of a cheetah. Before him, no one really thought of daggers as anything other than last resorts. A sword was always better until he showed the districts what potential such weapons had.

The screen showed slow motion clips of his signature move. A lethal dodge of a stronger opponent's slower strike that resulted in a dagger plunged into the back of the neck. Seamless, Brodrin had tried to replicate the move with his swords countless times, but he never felt that he'd done him justice.

Selvand came a few years after Braven, with tactics that completely opposed his predecessor's. With his tall, muscular stature, he used a long, single-edged sword with a slight curve on it, which proved advantageous for his heavy-attacking style. Brodrin's eyes rested on one of the screens just as it showed Selvand dealing the killing blow to the two careers from District 1, who tried to defeat him together. He cut them both down with one slash.

Still, while he admired their talents in combat, he wasn't ignorant of their faults. Braven lacked stamina, and Selvand had vision that was as narrow as a straw. Not to mention the fact that both victors didn't break the tradition of having an asshole win the games. No decent person ever did.

Thus, in a way, they got what was coming to them when they both died in the Capitol. Braven didn't fully recover from his wounds, dying a few weeks after, and Selvand dove off a balcony. _Apparently, alcohol can't make people fly._

Everyone in the district saw the two of them as the best to ever come through the academy and win the games. The only thing people didn't agree on was which one would defeat the other. He had heard great arguments from both sides, but personally he couldn't have cared less. He intended to make everyone forget about them this year. He would show them a Hunger Games they would remember above all others.

He quickened his pace as the doors to the training room came into view. All the students called it the Acorn. The nickname had become a sort of tradition for nearly a decade. The district had the Nut as its monument of fame, while the academy had the Acorn.

"Good luck Brekk. Promise to get the first kill for me?" said Ella, batting her eyes so fast that Brodrin wouldn't have been all that surprised if her eyelashes started on fire. Brekk, the career, strode ahead of him. Brodrin watched as he looked over at her, tossing her a quick wink. She quickly looked to her friends, giggling with an over-exaggerated form of bashfulness.

 _Collarchasers all act the same._ The only distinction between a career and all other students at the Academy rested on the collar of the uniforms. Normal students had white ones, while careers received black collars.

The students bunched up as they walked through the doors to the Acorn. Open space found itself at a premium. Everyone walked as though a short string restricted his or her ankles. _I'm not dealing with this,_ he thought.

"Hey!" he yelled, so loud that the boy directly in front of him flinched like a shy cat.

The crowd abruptly stopped and turned to look at the owner of the shout. Brodrin then merely gave a disinterested look, as though it was obvious what he wanted, and then he gestured with his hands for them to make a path. Listlessly, the students complied, creating a narrow gap for him to move through.

Once he'd made it though the doors, hundreds of eyes set their gaze directly on him. The students stood in balconies that looked like hollow blocks protruding from the walls of the 20-meter high room. In two of the corners, closest to the doors, stairs served as the way to get to the upper-level, cement balconies. The older kids got the higher ones and the youngsters settled with the lower. The youngest of the young had to stand on the ground floor. They had faces filled with jealousy and admiration for the ones who watched from above. To Brodrin, it was completely foolish; standing in the dull balconies didn't really change the viewing experience as far as he was concerned.

He took another look at the staring crowd, and then slowly, he made his walk to the Prep Room, at the other end of the massive hall. The constant chattering of students filled the hall, creating a constant cacophony of laughs, shouts, and hoots. The entrance to the Prep Room was finely decorated with an array of weapons that formed a 2, covering both doors.

Kaylor painted it. From far away the doors simply appeared as if they had a shiny 2 painted on them. However, once up close the real masterpiece revealed itself. Kaylor painted every weapon no larger than his finger. Yet, each one remained unique and extremely detailed. From maces to bows, the kid drew it all. He got a few compliments from some of the other careers, but they said it more like a side comment. Kaylor deserved a holiday for the craftsmanship he displayed, but careers usually only cared about one thing.

Brodrin entered the noisy room to find Brekk speaking passionately to one of the other careers. Brodrin always forgot his name.

"Listen man, you've gotta decide now. We can team up and make our odds way better, or we can get our asses kicked by Brodrin. We both know neither of us can beat him on our own so let's just—"

Brodrin acted as if he didn't notice either of them, walking casually right between their conversation.

Brekk shot him a menacing look, and the two joined the rest of the male careers. Most had gotten dressed and now sat on one of the many long benches that faced the display screen at the end of the room. Usually Allexin used it for combat lessons.

The Prep Room had a lot to offer. Wide lockers lined the entire right and left side of the room. At the other end was the shower room and right next to it, the weapons locker. The weapons locker imbedded itself deep into the wall. It wasn't really a locker like the rest of them, but more of a big closet with a really thick metal door that required a key card to access it. Trying to break in there was nearly impossible and it was just an efficient way to get expelled.

Brodrin took a seat on the backbench, leaning on the wall behind him. Allexin then strolled in. His face showed signs of stress as he walked up to the display screen so as to face all 92 of them. His eyes didn't leave the floor for several seconds as he stood there. He breathed slowly for a moment.

 _Thanks for the enthusiasm Scruff_. Careers called him Scruff because his hair always looked so disheveled like he just woke up, and he always had the shadow of facial hair coming in. No one knew if he liked the style or he just thought that well-kept hair lead to disease. Brodrin guessed that it was just his way of rebelling a little because he refused to wear the uniforms as well.

Instead he wore simple short-sleeved shirts, usually in grey, which exposed his thin, bony arms. Sometimes, Brodrin found it tough to believe that the head trainer had won the games not too long ago.

"This is a good moment," he said. "A moment when all of your dreams are still dreams. Remember this," he said softly, as Brodrin struggled to hear him from the back.

All the guys wore uncomfortable masks of respect. The silence lasted several seconds. Everyone just found Scruff extremely weird. He often sounded philosophical and he didn't really seem to have the aggressive behavior that most career trainers had. Still, he knew the art of murder better than anyone Brodrin had ever met.

"Before we get into it, I just want to say it's been an honor instructing all of you. No matter what happens out there, please believe me that the games aren't the only path to becoming the victor," Scruff said. His face had a touch of wisdom to it, beyond his years. The guy was only in his late-twenties.

Silence covered the entire room like a thick fog. For a moment movement and sound found itself forbidden. The careers looked at him, a little confused at first, then the determination found its way back to the surface.

"Now there will be 21 of you that will not have to participate in the preliminary matches. The 21 who have already advanced to the final match are determined by my rankings," he said. "I present my list."

 _His math is off,_ Brodrin thought.

Since the Emulate tried to replicate the Hunger Games, only 24 or less could participate in any one session. So with 92 male careers there had to be three preliminary matches. The three winners of the preliminary matches would participate in the Final Emulate, with the top 21 careers finding themselves exempt from the preliminaries.

Scruff turned around and tapped the screen behind him. 21 names rested vertically on the screen with a number next to each. Brodrin actually agreed with the Scruffster's rankings. The fact that he had received the #1 spot was irrelevant for the most part. The careers in 2nd and 3rd place really did have some skill, especially in group-fights.

The Emulate wholly followed the formula of the Hunger Games. The only difference being that a match in the Emulate only lasted about 10 minutes, if that. This was because the arena didn't span much more than 60 square yards. For years, the careers had trained, not only for combat, but also for surviving the elements. So the Emulate didn't really try to test long-term survivability.

Plenty of tributes died off without actually seeing any combat, but a career's biggest threat was the first 15 minutes of the games. A substantial amount of careers that didn't win the games often fell in the Cornucopia. When 23 other fighters surround a tribute, it's easy to get caught off guard. Last year both tributes from the district died in less than 3 minutes. A girl from District 12 stabbed the male tribute in the back, while a career from 1 held the girl down as his district companion slit her throat.

 _The career that thrives in chaos has the best chance of winning._ At least that's the way the Academy saw it. Brodrin always felt huge relief knowing the Emulate didn't take weeks like the games did. He didn't have the patience for it.

"Some of you may have perceived that there is one extra slot on this list," Scruff said over the grumbles and hushed conversations of the careers. "This is because we have one participant in the Final Emulate who has not trained as a career. He's been ranked fourth, thus he won't have to compete in the preliminary matches."

Low murmurs immediately erupted from the careers.

 _Wow that's weird_. Brodrin had never heard of anyone trying that before. Ranking a kid who'd never trained with the rest that high would surely piss some people off.

"Oh hey Scruffles, by the way," Brodrin said. Faces whipped around to look back at him. "I want to join a preliminary match."


	6. Chapter 6 - The Emulate

**Chapter 6 – The Emulate**

The eyes settled on Brodrin with eerie unison, and the grimaced faces gave Brodrin a sense of secret elation. Yet, the murmurs and whispers didn't last long, as Scruff stole the spotlight, taking a step towards the screen.

He simply made a few empty taps and swipes on the screen behind him that resulted in the disappearance of Brodrin's name. The career placed in second snatched up the first place ranking.

"Rolden, your next on the rankings," Allexin said. He ordered the rest of the careers to get dressed before he bolted toward the exit.

24 of the teens, including Brodrin, quickly lined up at the door in single file. He took the tail of the line. In these situations, he didn't like showing people his back.

The rest of the careers stood to the side waiting for them to exit first. Everyone stole glances at one another, analyzing like an assembly line and inspecting each item for quality. Carefully picking whom one observed in the Emulate usually proved to be half the battle. The best fighters had a few hidden moves or tricks that they'd kept in their back pockets for months or maybe even years. The Emulate was where they would reveal them, so it was best to pay attention.

The doors finally opened and the line moved with slow smoothness out of the locker. The cheers and shouts forced Brodrin to cringe momentarily, as his ears adjusted to the drastic elevation in noise. Students hopped up and down with youthful excitement and bliss.

In their own exclusive, seat-included balconies, the guides looked to be in a stage more extreme than paralysis. They stared with very little emotion, and when they threw a quick comment to the adjacent guide, their mouths moved as if they were made of granite. The academy had a particular tendency to bring in guides completely void of emotion.

Brodrin's eyes then locked onto the Cornucopia. This year's structure bested all others in recent memory. The cylinder-like construction stood two stories high with two narrow staircases on opposite ends that lead to the second level. The walls of the second floor were glass all the way around, revealing an array of weapons in the room. The architect crafted the ground level to have a similar feeling of openness, as it had three very large gaps in the wall, equally spaced around the structure. 4 careers could comfortably fit through any of the entrances at once. Still, the ground floor refused to be outdone by the top floor, as it too contained an impressive armory.

Artificial snow covered the ground around the Cornucopia. The white blanket created a perfect square around the dark grey structure, and the boundaries only extended about 25 yards away in all directions from the Cornucopia. This was the arena, and no one would leave it until only one career stood standing.

Snow would never be Brodrin's first choice though. Footwork was always important. One slip and it could be over. But that wasn't even the most annoying part. The drastic shift to the low temperature wasn't exactly pleasant. _Dammit, was it too much to just get a nice beach with some warm sand? Even that would be better._

The small pedestals on which the 24 stood had their names digitally inscribed on the tops. Circling around the entire building, they were all positioned the same distance away from it, about 15 yards. Still, Brodrin thought himself one of the lucky ones, since he faced one of the three entrances of the Cornucopia. Those that didn't simply faced a wall adjacent to the entrance. Such positions only required about 3 or 4 extra steps, but that could make a difference, unfortunately. To Brodrin, it was still much better than the Cornucopias with one big entrance to bottleneck everyone through.

The cheers increased with every participant that stepped up to his place. There was no need for instructions or introductions. Everyone knew what to do. Brodrin could now hear the hum of the invisible barrier that created a transparent box around the replica arena. The boundary separated the snowy blanket from the normal gently padded floors with perfect precision. Any weapons that tried to pierce the barrier wouldn't threaten the audience.

Everyone was in place and before anyone had a chance to really take in his surroundings, the countdown began, moving at a snail's pace. On three sides of the Cornucopia, just above each entrance the number twelve appeared, eventually changing to an eleven.

The numbers looked different this year; the stylistic font wasn't just something they whipped up at the last minute. The numbers received elegant pointed ends, and each digit had internal details added so that each one looked as though it contained its own unique ecosystem, from the ocean waves crashing onto sharp rocks to a jungle with dense, green vines hanging from seemingly nowhere. _Kaylor must have been involved._ 8 seconds left.

The others got in their stances. The initial sprint to the cache couldn't be overstated. 5 seconds left.

Brodrin spotted Kaylor. He stood next to Scruff on the ground floor. He looked down at Brodrin with a euphoric smile. His eyes held something else though, something that didn't match his smile. 1 second left.

There wasn't a ringing bell or a low siren that echoed through the massive room. Instead, there was piercing quiet. Everyone in the balconies, who couldn't stop themselves from screaming during the countdown, now fell as silent as snowfall.

Everyone sprinted. Brodrin's movement consisted of reserved and calculated strides. He knew how many steps he had take to get there. He knew how slow his heart was beating. He knew exactly where all 23 of the other careers were, and where they planned to go.

They ran with fast-pumping arms from the moment their feet freed themselves from the pedestals. Two of the over-eager careers lay only a few steps from where they originally stood, still convulsing from the heavy electrical shock that the pedestals had dished out.

He reached the universally desired destination first, with just about no time before the next career made it in. Almost immediately, the entire room was filled with his adversaries as they swung their fists and grabbed at weapons.

The roof of the structure looked a bit higher than he initially expected. His eyes whirled around for a moment, as he looked for the only weapons he would ever use in an arena. They hung to his left on the wall. The two short swords stared back at him with their edges pointing to the ground.

One career noticed them as well, rushing towards the twin blades. He was so focused on getting the weapons; he never even saw Brodrin or his fist. Then Brodrin snatched them off the wall and darted out of the Cornucopia, escaping the frenzy.

An unlucky fighter tried to change his course as Brodrin jetted past him, but his right blade caught his leg bringing him to the cold ground. Before he could get up, another boy ran up and began slashing at him with a sword.

When he made it far enough out of the mayhem, he turned around to get a full picture, taking a seat on the thin snow. The cold ground wasn't exactly comfortable, but he did his best to lounge with one knee propped up for his arm to rest on.

Plenty of the careers were already writhing on the floor. Some tackled each other, forgoing the weapons once they realized that all the ones in reach had been taken.

Each weapon had its edges lined with an incredibly soft, spongy material. The substance conducted electricity rather well, but still absorbed much of any weapon's velocity. The material was painted the same color as the metal of the weapons. Sometimes it proved difficult to tell whether a weapon had a shock layer on it or not.

A lot of the guys withstood more than one blow before they crumpled to the floor, overwhelmed from the amount of electricity surging through their bodies. Sparks sprang from their bodies when hit, and yells shot up from their mouths.

Most of the weapon caches had found themselves knocked over by now. This round wouldn't take long to finish. Only eight remained, as one particularly observant fighter finally noticed Brodrin sitting comfortably outside, watching the carnage within the Cornucopia like he was just another spectator in the balconies.

He didn't think twice before charging the seated career, sword in hand. Brodrin gracefully rose up with outstretched swords. The courageous career raised his sword above his head, but before he could bring it down, Brodrin leapt forward and placed a slash in his rib cage. The attacker staggered backwards to catch his breath. Brodrin let him do so, as it seemed he could use all the help he could get.

For his second attack he gripped the hilt with both hands and sent a flurry of slashes and stabs at Brodrin. He dodged all of them with ease, not even using his blades to block his sloppy attacks. The blade in his left hand then caught him completely by surprise as it found its mark on the top of his shoulder. This time he gave in to the wills of gravity.

Brodrin then returned to his original position of attempted comfort, sitting on the fake snow. But as he surveyed the situation, he didn't like what he saw.

He hadn't lost track of where the rest of his opponents stood, but he didn't realize that they'd all stopped fighting each other completely. Some of them remained rather close to one another, but they'd turned into furious statues. They were all nearly out of breath, as their sweat drenched their hair, while Brodrin looked almost bored at how this was playing out.

 _Shit,_ he thought to himself.

The seven that remained exchanged no words. The pack prowled toward him slowly in silence. Brodrin's careless façade washed away instantly as he leapt backwards onto his feet. He held both of his weapons up at the gang of trained killers. But his swords might as well have been toys to them. They were confident now, and they continued to close in on him. In an attempt to surround him completely, several of them started to move in on his flanks.

"How are my odds looking now Locke?" asked Brekk as he stood in the center of the pack with a look of pure elation.

Brodrin's opponents had now made a loose semicircle in front of him, but the careers on his left and right continued to take steps in an attempt to complete the encirclement.

Then Brodrin stopped backing up slowly, and he lowered his weapons. He said with a smirk, "Well Brekk, I've gotta admit—."

He cut quickly to his left like a viper, lunging at the career trying to get a look at his back. His bluff at starting a dialogue worked. The makeshift hunting party was nowhere near prepared for Brodrin to start the fight. He delivered a strong jab of his sword to the unaware career, forcing him to hunch over. Then he didn't waste any time bringing his other sword down on his exposed back. _6 more to go._

He then immediately backed up again so as to keep all of them in front of him. They weren't happy with his trick, and they all attacked simultaneously.

He'd never had to take on more than 4 at once, which already usually didn't end well. Anymore than that and everyone understood that it was over. However, that lack of training worked both ways. As they all threw themselves at Brodrin with newfound confidence, attack after attack constantly got in the way of one another. The pack quickly made it apparent that they were out of rhythm, and he made sure to exploit this.

He kept moving backwards and sideways to keep the others consistently bumping into one another. Constantly moving, he used the Cornucopia to his advantage, moving around it and through it. The ground had been littered with dropped weapons and pillaged crates. It made it terrifically difficult for the pack to swarm him all at once.

Brekk ran into one of his fellow attackers so much that he cut him down himself out of frustration. But since he was in the back of the group, none of the others noticed.

Brodrin was able to finally get somewhere when one of them got particularly aggressive and moved too far in front of the others. He countered an attack coming from his right side, introducing a sword to his opponent's chest. One hit was all it took. _4 more to go._

Then he simultaneously slashed at the two who still hadn't fully recovered their balance from an embarrassing collision. Both fell without even a whimper. _2 to go._

He felt the fear rush out from his body like an evil spirit, leaving nothing but a sense of invincibility. Brekk and his lone companion now backed up slowly. Brekk couldn't keep his long sword from trembling like a flagpole in the wind, as he stared in bewilderment at him.

He looked at Brekk. "You regret taking out your other pal now?"

Quite confused, the other career looked at Brekk and then at Brodrin. He didn't waste any time putting distance between the other two, but Brekk had his mind made up before his temporary ally did.

Brodrin saw it as an act mostly of desperation mixed with a sprinkle of resourcefulness. Brekk slashed the boy's sword arm. The blow made him drop his weapon, as Brekk then grabbed him by the collar and threw him into Brodrin like a slingshot.

Brodrin sidestepped to the right, leaving an outstretched leg for the stumbling boy to conveniently trip over. But Brekk didn't waste any time. He slashed right at Brodrin's face. He dodged forward with a spin of unnecessary finesse allowing him to get behind the fighter. The flat side of his blade then playfully found his butt. The tap resulted in a small spark that made him jump forward.

The laughter and roar from the crowd stung Brekk like a poison, as he whipped around with a menacing face filled to the brim with red.

Brodrin's opponent was admittedly talented. His strikes were well-timed and accurate. He attempted powerful kicks and even a resourceful elbow when their weapons locked for a second. But Brodrin was simply too quick for him, and he failed to land a blow.

He let him attack for a good 20 seconds before he felt the familiarity of boredom creep over him. He had more than solidified his dominance. Then the confident career parried a sword thrust, and without letting his blade leave contact with his opponent's, he slid it down the weapon, striking him hard in the chest.

Brekk groaned and struggled to get up, but it was over. Brodrin then turned around to see the wounded career, which Brekk had used as a distraction. He limped forward with no weapon in hand.

His eyes were red and flooded with tears. The ground decorated his face with snow and some blood from a small cut on his face. His shirt had plenty of rips in it, and it was stretched out at the neckline, exposing part of his left shoulder.

"Please Brodrin, listen to me. I need to win this. You have to understand I have nothing else. This is it for me," he said with pleading eyes that now let the tears fall.

He tightened his grip on the blades. "Sorry," he said unconvincingly.


	7. Chapter 7 - Hard Feelings

**Chapter 7 – Hard Feelings**

Brodrin brought his sword into Jarrett's rib cage and he let out a cry as if he'd just been murdered. Though likely, it was just the pain of at least one broken rib. With that, Brodrin earned his place in the final round of the Emulate. The crowd cheered from above, throwing fists and screams of excitement.

Kaylor stood on the ground floor, close to the door of the Prep Room. He wasn't a career, but he still had permission to remain with the rest of them instead of joining the balconies littered with students. Thus, he could see the action up close.

A melancholy had draped over most of the other careers, male and female alike.

"He thinks he's so special," one said.

Another murmured, "Cocky asshole."

Kaylor enjoyed the other careers being in such a fit. He flashed a grin at Scruff, who stood just a few feet away.

"Brodrin will regret today. This will cost him," he said quietly so that only Kaylor heard. "This isn't his personal play area."

Death wasn't exactly uncommon for the Emulate, though it had been several years since the academy had witnessed a fatal casualty. Still, everyone understood that death remained a potent risk. The Emulate had to replicate the games as closely as possible. The careers used much lighter weapons during normal training, but that presented some issues. Several of the less impressive careers could hang with the top ten when it came to training weapons. But with real weapons, it was a different story.

"What's the difference between if Brodrin swings the sword or someone else?" Kaylor asked, leaning on the wall behind him.

Allexin gave a hard glare at nothing in particular. "One day he'll understand the rare luxury of choosing who you kill," he mumbled.

"Scruff, what the hell are you talking about—"

He then looked at Kaylor, as if he had just returned to the real world. "Jarret hung in there until the end."

"The predatory instincts. To take those hits and get tossed around like that," Kaylor said, looking at the ground. "Remarkable."

Allexin appeared as if he would respond, but then he seemed to change his mind, replying only with a polite nod.

* * *

The rest of the preliminary matches went on with few surprises. The winners for both the girls and boys stood as the favorites. Not that it mattered much. It had been six years since a career moved on from winning a preliminary match and won the whole Emulate. Quite consistently, a career that ranked high enough to initially earn a place in the Emulate's final round usually won. So Brodrin technically would be an oddity if he won the Emulate, though admittedly, he was the favorite from the beginning.

One girl did break her collarbone, and another boy nearly lost his eye. It had fallen out of the socket and dangled across his cheek like a pendulum. Then, even the toughest of the audience let out cries of horror and shock. Lucky for him, putting the eye back in wouldn't be much of an issue.

So as they carried the temporarily one-eyed career to the Rez Deck, Brodrin strolled past. Kaylor found it difficult to tell if the career had even noticed his presence as he walked by.

A few minutes later, the careers for the last of the preliminaries stepped onto the starting platforms. A few of them struggled to stop their legs from shaking. A few brave ones gestured to the crowd in a successful attempt to fuel the roars and cheers. But the fights ended the way they always do. One feeling on top of the world, with the rest left emotionally and physically broken. Their life's work brought to an abrupt, painful end.

* * *

Kaylor stuck around after everyone left. When the massive hall had silenced, he began cleaning the floors surrounding the Cornucopia. He wheeled out a large bin of towels, mopping up the discolored water that had once been artificial snow.

The empty balconies made the gigantic space feel sacred to him. He couldn't fight the urge. Suddenly, he began swinging his imagined blade around wildly. His enemies attacked from all sides, but he parried and dodged, speeding around the Cornucopia.

"There's simply no way. Kaylor can't possibly get out of this one. He's finished. But somehow he's fought off the tributes from districts 1 and 3!" he said in his best commentator's voice. "Is it possible that against the odds he can survive? He's doing it! He refuses to stop his onslaught of attacks." He jump-kicked off the wall of the Cornucopia. "It's now just down to Kaylor and the mongrel from District 1. Truly a splendid show of sword mastery—"

A slippery spot he'd missed turned out to be his downfall. With a slick _screech_ , his legs swung out from under him and his back hit the ground hard. He groaned, staring up at the glass ceiling. The sun, high in the sky, effortlessly shined through. He loved the transparent ceiling. There was just something about being enclosed, yet seeing a route to escape.

"Was that your new fighting style? Interesting strategy."

Kaylor recognized the voice, languidly picking himself up. "Yeah if you could never acknowledge that this happened," he said, trying to slow his breathing as quickly as possible. "I'd appreciate it."

Allexin chuckled. "There's only about an 85% chance that I'll tell everyone I possibly can."

"I guess that will have to do."

"I have a reason for interrupting your role-play though," Allexin said, still grinning. "Otherwise I would have let you finish defeating the _mongrel_ of District 1."

"How thoughtful," he said dryly.

"I noticed you trying to speak with Brodrin today during lunch."

Kaylor decided not to answer. Instead he pretended to inspect the Cornucopia. He did design it after all.

"I'm not making judgments here," Allexin said.

 _Yeah right._ Kaylor knew exactly what he was thinking. _He thinks I'm being just some dumb, desperate kid, trying to make a friend._

"Thanks for understanding Scruff. I've got some more role-playing to do so…" he said, preparing to make his escape.

"Neither of us has that kid figured out. That's all I'm saying," he said. "Just be careful. Some people just carry danger with them like a bad odor."

He bridged the distance between the two of them. Allexin was taller than him, but not by much. Kaylor considered his options carefully before speaking.

"You remember when I dislocated my shoulder?" he asked.

Allexin paused for a moment. "Listen, about that, I understand if you blame me for not breaking it up sooner," he said shaking his head slowly. "I've had my eye on Rex ever since."

"A month later, Brodrin dislocated his leg. Another three weeks and his wrist was fractured in three places thanks to Brodrin's handiwork."

He scrunched his eyebrows together, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"There was also the time I insulted Ayla Fortap by asking her to have lunch with me." He let out a self-mocking chuckle. "I had memorized my lines word for word. I could still recite them to you perfectly right now. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to ask you out just yet."

Allexin jokingly just waved his hand in a way that said, 'Fair enough.'

"Well she said she'd be glad to if I could beat her in a sparring match. I misinterpreted it for flirting, but when she introduced her foot to my temple the misunderstanding was cleared right up," he said. "A few weeks later she suddenly found herself excommunicated from the popular crowd. It turns out there were several rumors that Ayla had been making attempts at Amarra's boyfriend."

Kaylor had doubted himself time and again once he had started to notice the pattern. But Amaren had convinced him. The career had acquired the habit of tripping him whenever he walked with Ella in the halls, acting like a jealous 8 year-old. Brodrin's training _incident_ with him a few days ago seemed too convenient.

"How come I never noticed your undercover guardian?" he asked.

"Same reason it took me this long. He was really patient about it. He put so much time between his moves so that no one would notice the pattern," he said. "I never figured out the details of how he got the rumors to stick."

Allexin just stood there staring at him. "Jarrett would like to see you. He's in the Rez Deck."

Kaylor headed for the door. "Or maybe it's all just coincidence," he shouted back to him.

* * *

Kaylor reached the Rez Deck in no time at all. The doors of the glorified infirmary stood tall and wide. The left door had the word "Rest" imprinted on it, while the right one picked up right where the other left off with "oration."

Once in the room, an empty desk greeted him. The nurse who usually inhabited it must have been off bustling around. For the Emulate, the academy tripled the staffing of doctors and nurses.

But even with so many patients the room didn't sound any louder than a normal classroom. Anyone who normally might howl with agony received a nice shot of painkillers to settle them down. As the guides always told the classes, 'Order creates safety.' _So if you feel unsafe, just take drugs,_ Kaylor thought to himself.

As he headed down the single aisle, rooms on either side flanked him. Bland white walls quartered off each room. But the large doors that faced him were made of glass. Privacy wasn't anyone's main concern in the Rez Deck, and the transparent walls proved helpful in his search for Jarrett.

Still, whenever Kaylor found himself in the infirmary, he felt his face getting warmer as he tried to fight the urge to stress-bite his lip. He'd spent too many days here, broken and battered. He remembered how during each visit, he just wanted to feel invisible. But instead, he felt like he was on display. The glass doors showed him to the rest of the academy, for everyone to observe and laugh at.

When he found Jarrett's room, it was not what you would call a blissful image. The wounded career laid across the bed, his body rigidly spread and unmoving. He stared at nothing and clenched his fists so hard as if he was using them to crack nuts. The door slid open horizontally, and Jarrett finally escaped from his stupor.

"Kaylor?" He seemed surprised that he'd actually shown. "I'm sorry if it seemed like I was summoning you or something. I would have come to you but I'm not really feeling my best," he said with a nervous laugh.

Kaylor didn't return the polite chuckle. He let the silence do its work, cementing the awkward mood. Despite his anger, the resent-filled stare didn't look very good on him. He was very aware of it, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"A one-on-one with Brodrin isn't the worst way to go," he said. "Smart move, joining up with Brekk."

 _It wouldn't have mattered if Brekk were partially responsible for Jarrett's loss or not. There was no way you were going to win._

"Brekk didn't even matter. Brodrin slaughtered me. Either way, I was an afterthought," he paused and let the tears fall, "to everyone."

Kaylor hadn't anticipated that the loss would hit him this hard. "Come on Jarrett. You had to know you were going to lose."

"I know I wasn't going to win. But that's my fault. If I was stronger or…" more tears fell, "or maybe quicker, things could have been…" He let his hands rise and then fall back onto his bed.

 _He let the dream live too long. He had probably imagined himself winning the games so many times that it must have transformed into a personal prophecy._

"I can tell you aren't happy to be here. I get it. I have one sentence for you. Just one. Anything after that doesn't need to be said, though I would like to elaborate."

"Sorry, I've got places to be. A couple careers and I are going to beat up some little kids later. Maybe grab a coffee while we're at it."

He chuckled. "I miss that sarcasm of yours. I really do."

Kaylor simply gave him an impatient look.

Jarrett nodded his head. "I betrayed you when you needed me most, and I will never forgive myself for that Kaylor," he whispered. He clenched his jaw so hard it looked painful and his eyes welled up.

"So you finally know what it means to feel aimless, with no purpose or dream left to chase, huh? Well, join the club bud."

"I'm so sorry Kaylor. I know I don't deserve this, but I need your forgiveness. I know I can't ever be your friend again. But—"

"I thought we agreed on one sentence? Never was that good at math but…"

Jarrett closed his eyes, giving a defeated nod.

He headed for the door; unable to reach the handle fast enough. Then he turned his head to the side, allowing Jarrett to enter his peripheral vision. "You should have gone for his legs. He still does a bad job of protecting them."

"Goodbye Kaylor," he murmured, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

Kaylor stopped only once down the walkway.

A career had been strapped to his bed. He screamed, trying to wrestle out of his restraints, constantly throttling his head backwards into his pillow. Two nurses hurried past. One of them had a syringe in her hand.

Kaylor recognized him. He was 18, so this was his last chance at the Emulate, just like Jarrett. "Kill me!" the boy yelled. "There's no point anymore! There's no point!"

It only took a few seconds for the injection to do its job. Then, just like a toddler after playtime; the boy dozed off, fast and sudden.


	8. Chapter 8 - Consistencies

**Chapter 8 – Consistencies**

Brodrin opened the unlocked door to his apartment with a soft kick. His body felt consumed with an extraordinary ache in his muscles. Hiding some semblance of a grin from everyone proved a little difficult for once. No one had ever seen what he'd done, and he was just getting started.

The apartment was the extreme definition of barren. The kitchen had exactly one plate, one fork, one knife, a soupspoon, and one glass with only a frying pan and a small pot in the adjacent cupboard to keep them company.

The living room had an isolated armchair, which was quite large, but it didn't even cover a quarter of the open space. The exposed hardwood floors seemed to rise up, as if begging to be noticed.

He checked the time: 4:15. The day had gone long because of the other preliminary matches. Still, he didn't mind. Nothing awaited him at home.

He prepared a bowl of peas for himself. He hated peas. They tasted like solid droplets of grass to him.

He plopped down on the lone survivor of furniture, facing directly at the screen across the room. Even among the richest in District 2, having a screen for one's personal use, of this size, was nearly unheard of. Brodrin only used it for one thing.

He turned on the screen with the remote, which only had five buttons. It picked up right where he'd left off the other day. He was right at the end of the 69th Hunger Games. He'd seen each one so many times that he'd memorized every winner. He knew what weapon they used, their strategies, their scores, and if they were morally decent. A good person never won the games, or so it felt.

The fight was coming to its climax. The careers from 2 and 4 had finished everyone else off. The two couples hadn't formed an outright alliance, but they had a ceasefire, avoiding each other until the end. Braven Akerrard, one of the best to come through 2, had lost his partner quite early in the fight. She'd been wounded a day earlier, so she didn't have much of a chance. It was hard for Brodrin to tell if her death even affected him.

 _He moved so damn fast_. Brodrin never tired of seeing him fight; his mesmerizing movement helped him to kill the two careers with an effortless demeanor. Brodrin always liked that about him. Braven never looked like he was giving his all, he never had to.

He finished his bland snack just as Braven put a dagger in the back of his opponent's neck. Then he made his way to his room, throwing on his casual set of clothes, with a simple white shirt and some black pants.

He stared at himself in the mirror, not to examine his attire, but simply to look. The 18-year-old in the mirror stared back at him. He had light brown skin and black hair, buzzed to the scalp. He had dark green eyes and one very long scar on the left side of his face. It started at his forehead and didn't end until it found his chin. His gaze lingered on his scar, but only for a moment.

He then sprawled out on his bed, an unmoving and firm brick. His thin, flimsy pillow did little to cushion anything. Staring out the large window, within his room, he waited. The sun shined down on the sea of grey buildings, where the rest of the district's residents lived. The lake reflected the sun's rays with winks of light, a sight he never grew bored of.

He waited in his bed for hours, until finally the sun hid itself behind the mountains, letting the night slowly envelope everything.

He picked himself up and closed the door of his room behind him. He glanced over at the two other rooms in the apartment. Their doors were locked, unopened and undisturbed.

He grabbed a light jacket and a bag off the island countertop in the kitchen. In addition, he snatched some bread and eggs from the counter, stopping at the refrigerator for some cheese and throwing it all in his bag.

He threw up his hood and then closed the door to his apartment without locking it. He never really saw a point.

The elevator arrived on his floor quickly. Brodrin lived on the top floor of the building, a massive honor to some. Usually it was annoying for him though, as the elevator often took longer to get to the top floor.

The structure was surrounded by artificial, yellow light from the light fixtures a few feet above the doorway. When he exited the building, he made a quiet dash to escape the illuminated area and escape into the shadows, unexposed. He looked back to make sure that no one was watching him.

Two residential towers made up the apartment complex, with the twelve-story buildings connected by enclosed walkways at several levels.

Once in the shadows, he made his way towards two steep and rocky hills, resting about half a mile away from his home. He had walked this route too many times to count now.

The path was unknown to most. It was narrow and jagged, requiring a good amount of traversing uneven ground. The trail ran through the two hills with an abundance of underbrush on either side, obscuring much of the path.

Soon he reached the other world of District 2, the place where the poor of the district lived. Some worked in the Nut. Others worked in the stone quarries. But none had it nearly as good as the elite families that sent their kids to the academy.

The buildings all looked the same to him, but he still had a specific one in mind. A few peacekeepers were patrolling the streets, but the alleys and side streets made them easy to avoid.

When he arrived at his destination, he knocked on the door. A girl opened it almost immediately. "Evening Sunshine!" she whispered, yanking him into her apartment.

* * *

"I thought you weren't going to come tonight," she said, lounging on her bed. "I was so restless today. The anticipation is killing me."

He'd taken a seat on her bed on the opposing side, putting deliberate space between them. "How are you?" he asked in his monotone voice.

"There's time for me later. Quick! Tell me every single detail. Did you really do the whole sitting down thing?"

He chuckled without so much as grinning. "That didn't go exactly as planned."

He then began to tell her everything that had happened that day, with her only interrupting to ask questions.

Her tiny room was a complete contradiction to Brodrin's. The walls were cement, but she had made that almost impossible to tell, as they were completely covered with one thing or another. There were paintings all over the place, as well as quilts, exploding with color.

"Brodrin Locke, always the modest one. Serves you right that they all ganged up on you," she said cheerfully.

"I never felt so good after fighting. I'm so close Pell."

"I know you are. I know how much this means to you." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off casually as he walked over to the small window. The streets were empty, like that of a ghost town.

"I brought some food." He set his bag in front of her. "Still have any bread left? The cheese won't last long."

He could hear the glow in her voice fade slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. You won't have to worry about that much longer. Anna next door is coming around. I think she's going to hire me soon."

He hated everyone in this building. All of her neighbors were cowards or spiteful assholes as far as he was concerned.

"They're all pathetic," he said. "Don't work for them."

"Don't have much a choice now do I?"

Suddenly the two heard a knock at the door. It was more of a slam than a knock, but they made their way into the closet-sized kitchen to check who was at the door.

When Pell checked through the peephole she didn't hesitate, wrenching the door open and bolting outside. Brodrin didn't even have a chance to tell her to wait.

"Get off him!" she yelled, pulling at the man's dark grey jacket. He was in his thirties, and he reeked of alcohol.

"You think you're kind can just walk around here!" The drunk had the boy by his collar. "You spoiled little shit!"

Brodrin couldn't even get a good look at either of them in the poorly illuminated hallway. All he could see was the back of the man's head, with his black and greasy hair flailing furiously.

 _He probably lives in this building. No one can know that I've been here_ , he reminded himself. The career acted fast.

He brought his foot down onto the man's leg, right behind his knee, making sure not to break anything. The belligerent man fell to his knees without so much as a grunt. Before he could turn around, Brodrin swung his leg into the side of the man's head. He wasn't out cold, but he groaned with his head in the floor.

Brodrin then grabbed the assailed victim and yanked him back through the door. Pell needed no instructions. She leapt into the kitchen along with the other two.

With the kitchen light, he could finally get a good look at the kid. "You?" he asked, completely bewildered.

Kaylor stood in the kitchen that could barely fit the three of them. His smile had a look of simultaneous embarrassment and pride. "Now, I see how this looks…"

"You followed me," he said, his anger beginning to bubble to the surface.

"Define 'follow.'"

Pell then chimed in. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

He shot out a hand. "Kaylor Valden."

"You're Kaylor!" she said, seeming to completely forget about the aggressive drunk just outside the door. "I've heard so much about you, sweetheart." She gently swatted his hand away, wrapping him up in her arms. She was significantly taller than Brodrin, and with the two of them hugging, Brodrin could see that she beat out Kaylor by less than an inch.

Kaylor blushed, but Brodrin was happy to ruin the moment. "Why the hell were you following me Valden?"

Pell drew out the hug for a few more seconds, ignoring Brodrin. When she finally let go of the embrace she said, "Penella Erinite. Just call me Pell though." She smiled.

"It's really nice to meet you Pell," he replied with a blissful grin.

Brodrin snapped his fingers, jolting Kaylor out of his dazed stare. "Why… the… hell… were you following me?"

"I'll make some tea. Would you like some Kaylor?" she asked.

"I'd love some."

Brodrin glared at Kaylor.

"You two go get comfortable," she pointed to her room. "I'll bring in the tea. Be nice Brodrin."

"You want me to go in there with him? Alone? With like no witnesses?"

Pell laughed. "I have a strict no fighting policy in here. Brodrin does a good job of following the rules."

The two went into Pell's brightly colored room. Brodrin closed the door and leaned against the one bit of wall that was free, staring impatiently at Kaylor.

"I know we've spoken about a paragraph of words to each other. But I came to your room earlier today to talk. I tried during lunch, but Hallie had other things on her mind." He forced out a chuckle that sounded artificial, as if it was created in a lab. "Anyway, I came to your door, saw you leaving and curiosity got the better of me. I don't know anyone else from the academy that's ever been to this part of the district before. When you went inside, I decided to leave and try to talk another day, but then I ran into Mr. Friendly out there."

Brodrin kept staring, causing Kaylor to fidget. "You're not going to tell anyone about Pell. Understand." _This could ruin everything._

"Of course. That's your business. I'm just here to thank you."

"What do you want to thank me for?" he asked. "I never did anything for you."

"I think you know. Amaren, Rex, Ayla and the others. I know you've been getting back at those guys for me," he said. "In your own cold, secretive way."

 _Shit. He figured it out. Maybe that'll help keep him quiet at least._ "You're wrong. I don't help anyone."

"That's what I thought at first, but the consistencies became… too consistent."

"Not consistencies. Just coincidences." His face hadn't fully turned into a scowl, but it was still far from being a smile.

"Agree to disagree?"

"No. I don't help others, especially washed-up careers with too much time on their hands to follow people around and come up with ridiculous theories."

Kaylor's slim shoulders fell a bit. "You're right. It was just a dumb theory of mine. I'm sorry for following you. That was creepy. It won't happen again." Then he moved through the kitchen. "I'm sorry about the tea," he said to Pell without looking at her. Then he threw up his hood, darting out the door.

She came into her room, her arms crossed.

"I had to Pell."

"No one ever _has_ to be an ass," she said. "He didn't even get a chance to try out my tea," she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. "Which is probably good because it sucks, but still."

"Someone could have seen me Pell. Tonight could have ruined everything."

"I told you he would notice eventually. The guy always sounded like a clever one," she said. "Also, you never mentioned that he was so cute."

"On the prowl are we?"

"Tea then," she said quickly, heading back into the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9 - Death Undisclosed

**Chapter 9 – Death Undisclosed**

Kaylor had moved through the week in perpetual embarrassment and melancholy ever since his brief discussion with Brodrin at Pell's home. It was all that he could think about for the last few days.

His eyes lingered on the grey-dark cement as he walked down the paved walkway. It ran directly from the high-rise's unnecessarily large doors to the academy. Grass and a few trees surrounded the students on their walk.

His long strides made it difficult to not pass by the other students. Most of them walked in small groups of three or four, giggling and conversing along the way.

Kaylor had never been much of a morning person, but still, the sun's gentle rays on the back of his neck felt comforting.

For the female tributes, the Final Emulate was today. Hallie Norite stood as the favorite, and Kaylor felt inclined to agree with the majority. She had her little pack to back her up. With them at her side, they'd be able to dominate the replica arena.

The walk to the academy took around six and a half minutes. Then Kaylor found himself walking through the canals to the main elevator.

"Hey man," one student said to him, as a large mob entered the elevator.

"How's it going?" he replied. Kaylor didn't ever hang out with Arten outside of classes, but he was on good terms with most of the non-career students.

The flood of kids filled the hallways with loud chatter as Kaylor made his way to the training hall. Every morning he made sure everything was up and ready for the day's training session. There wouldn't be any training for today, but he still had to make sure everything was ready and in order for the big event.

He pushed the door open, and sunlight from the windows above poured down on his head. The cornucopia stood in the center of the hall, tall and proud. He tried to fight the giddy satisfaction he felt from looking at his design.

As he made his way over to the weapons locker, he smelt something. The training hall quite often exhibited peculiar odors after a session. But this smell was different. He inhaled.

Slowly, he walked around the cornucopia, with the scent's strength increasing as he went. First he saw the legs, and as he rounded the structure, then rest of the body came into view. The head hung from the lifeless body like that of a doll's. The boy sat slumped against the wall of the Cornucopia, a pool of blood surrounded him.

Kaylor didn't move. He didn't scream, and he didn't try to call for help. He slowly knelt down next to the corpse. The sword stuck out of his body, a foreign object, not meant to be there.

He lifted the head in order to get a view of the obscured face.

"Jarrett," he whispered.

* * *

Kaylor stared out at the spot where Jarrett's blood had pooled and his body sat lifeless. There remained no traces of the murder. His body had been taken away in secret with the rigorous cleaning done immediately.

No one in the academy had any idea about what had happened. Allexin knew. A few of the staff that had extensively scrubbed the floors knew. That was it. The rest of the school had gone on without a clue.

"I understand that you're mad right now," Allexin said.

Kaylor and Allexin looked on at the Cornucopia as the female fighters walked over to their pedestals. The two stood a good distance away from the rest of the careers.

"What have you been telling people? That he's come down with the flu?" Kaylor refused to look at him.

"Anger is good. It hurts less than sadness."

Kaylor knew that the cover-up wasn't his call. Allexin had just followed orders, reporting it up the chain of command once Kaylor had told him about Jarrett. He was right though, the anger helped keep the real pain away.

"Was he the first person you've seen that way?" he asked.

At first, Kaylor thought this to be a rather odd question. Allexin knew that he'd watched people die in the games countless times. But those deaths happened on a screen, miles and miles time it was different for him. Actually being there had a certain revolting intimacy to it. On the screen he couldn't smell the blood. He couldn't truly hear the eerie silence of a corpse. He couldn't look into the hollow eyes of the person that he once knew, the eyes that stared into nothingness. But with Jarrett things felt different. It did feel like the first time.

"You know you can head out at any point today," he said. "I've made it clear to all of the guides that you're free to go whenever you want."

"Thanks Allexin." Kaylor had no intention of leaving early. He needed as much distraction as possible. The Final Emulate was the best chance he had of thinking about something else.

Allexin casually walked away as other careers began to come within earshot. The training hall had been filled yet again with students and guides. The cheering and shouting had made the preliminaries sound about as loud as a family picnic.

The female careers stood at the ready on their pedestals, as the countdown began. The girls wore faces of total concentration. When the countdown reached 0 they all sprinted at once. No one moved too early.

The 24 fighters smashed into the Cornucopia's doors all at once. They screamed and punched and kicked with no restraint.

From Kaylor's position, he could see into the structure's interior. Hallie hadn't even gone for a weapon. Instead, she knocked one girl out cold with a single haymaker. Then she slammed one girl's head into the wall, causing her to go limp immediately. The brawler fought with blind tenacity, grabbing any case nearby and smashing the closest foe with it. She never bothered to open any of the crates to get at the weapons.

The chaos proved difficult to handle. It was obvious that Hallie and her little squad had a plan. Two of the girls leapt onto any opponent close enough, restraining them as much as possible. The two other girls used their weapons to swiftly finish off the subdued careers. They worked efficiently, with Hallie serving as the berserker. Anyone who seemed to have any thought of interrupting the girls' process found herself mauled by the juggernaut of a career.

The heavy fighting lasted a little more than five minutes, and not one of Hallie's minions had gone down.

Hallie sent the last survivor sprawling outside of the cornucopia's doors. The girl landed hard on her back. She was almost as big as Hallie, but not quite.

The girl struggled to get up. Hallie stormed out of the structure, introducing her foot to her opponent's face before she had a chance to react. The crowd roared with excitement. This Emulate hadn't lasted exceptionally long, but it had been entertaining for them.

The other girls strode out of the structure, weapons in hand. Hallie, unarmed, lifted her arms open victoriously. Then, turning to her allies, she nodded. Without hesitation three of the girls brought their blades to their stomachs, shocking themselves and falling to the floor. The scene made Kaylor feel disgusting. _I'm apart of this. A world where people treat death like this, something casually done._

Gasps and shouts of shock echoed in the massive hall. The careers that surrounded Kaylor seemed just as surprised as everyone else. For some reason, this seemed to unsettle them more than the most savage injuries.

But something seemed amiss. One of the girls had not followed suit. She stood still, staring at Hallie with a harmless smile.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Hallie asked, irritated.

"I thought you and I could try one last fight," she said. The girl seemed bored all of a sudden.

Kaylor recognized her. Niah Prellemor had been Hallie's main servant since before he could remember. The girl seemed to always be at her side, ready to give some of her food during her lunch or give her extra praise whenever needed. He'd also heard several remarks that she was the one who did Hallie's course work.

"Niah, take that stick of a blade and shove it somewhere, before I decide where it goes."

Niah sidestepped, holding her hands out as if presenting the Cornucopia, which was filled with careers as they writhed on the floor. "Go on in. Grab your axe."

Hallie's shoulders tensed and her breathing quickened. For a second, Kaylor thought that she might forgo a weapon and just attack Niah with her fists. But her common sense won out, and she marched over to grab her weapon, refusing to show her back to Niah.

She quickly found a two-handed axe, coming back out into the open. The blades of the two-sided weapon were covered in a layer of the rubber-like substance that was thicker than usual. Heavier weapons required more precautions, but a hard hit to the head could still prove lethal.

The crowd cheered and students murmured to one another. Those in the balconies couldn't hear what the two were saying to each other, but no one seemed to understand the entire situation it seemed, including Hallie.

"All these years, and now you're just gonna stab me in the back!"

Niah held up her rapier, prepared to fight. The shock layer on her blade seemed almost paper-thin in comparison.

"They're going to have to pull me off you!" She charged at Niah with her great axe.

Niah leapt to the side effortlessly, but Hallie continued her attack. She swung wildly from all directions; with Niah doing everything she could to dodge the strikes.

 _One hit and she's done,_ Kaylor thought. Niah was extremely thin, with the bones at her wrist visibly protruding. Being of average height, she would never be known for her strength, but few could match her in agility. She moved swiftly and constantly, dodging Hallie's vicious onslaught.

Suddenly, Hallie looked to be coming in with another swing of her axe, but at the last moment, she swept out her leg instead. This caught Niah by surprise, bringing her legs out from under her. Once she hit the ground, Hallie lifted her axe to finish her off, and as she brought it down, Niah rolled to one side, avoiding the hard blow. Then she slashed with her sword at Hallie's wrists; the blow forcing her to drop the axe.

Niah leapt back to her feet, putting some distance between the two of them. The axe lay between them.

Hallie's fists dangled at her sides, her hands unable to open. "You were never this good."

Niah replied with a stare, as if she was unimpressed by her opponent's performance.

Hallie screamed in frustration, throwing herself at Niah once again. Niah waited for her to get in close, then she began back-stepping. Her speed allowed her to control the distance between the two of them. All the while, Hallie swung her perpetually closed fists and Niah slashed at her with her sword. Every swing of her weapon landed, eventually forcing Hallie to cover her sides with her arms.

Then, sensing her opportunity, Niah lunged forward, dishing out three brutal slashes with lightning speed. It brought Hallie to her knees just at the edge of the miniature arena. The crowd cheered and hollered with awe.

Niah circled around her former ally, so that Hallie found herself in between Niah and the edge of the arena. Hallie struggled to get up, turning around to face her. The girl gave her a disinterested look and then kicked her. The blow sent the wounded career hurtling out of the arena. A whirring sound erupted as Hallie crossed the edge causing her momentum to unnaturally change course. Her body abruptly flung in the opposing direction, straight back at Niah, who lazily sidestepped out of the way.

Hallie landed with a thud, her body twitching from the electrical shocks.

The crowd of students cheered, while the spectating careers did little to hide their surprise.

"Wasn't Niah ranked 22nd or something?"

"I can't even count the amount of times that I've beaten that girl in sparring matches."

"She made Hallie look like a toddler fighting for the first time."

Niah walked off the arena, showing no enthusiasm for her achievement. The careers that weren't in the fight then swarmed her, congratulating her or bombarding her with questions about when she had become so talented.

Kaylor spotted Brodrin leaning against a wall in the corner by himself. The lonely life never seemed to get too old for him, at least in the Academy. Outside of it, Kaylor had found out that it wasn't that simple. The career had a few secrets.

 _Her name is Pell._

Then his eyes fell on the spot where blood should have been. He'd been right. For a moment he'd found himself wrapped up in the simplicity that came with the Emulate and the Hunger Games. Beat your opponent. It's as simple as that.

Kaylor felt a wave of guilt. He'd found the body just a few hours ago, and he was already doing an impressive job of moving forward. _He deserves to be remembered._ _His name is Jarrett. His name was Jarrett…_


	10. Chapter 10 - Blood & Glass

**Chapter 10 – Blood & Glass**

The locker room held an uncomfortable silence, with the 24 careers pretending to look busy as they waited. After a few moments, Brodrin gave up and took a seat on one of the benches. He didn't think that he'd actually be nervous when the time came. Yet, here he was at the Final Emulate, struggling to fight from shaking.

In the corner, he spotted an unfamiliar face. _He must be the one, the guy that ranked so high without even training with us._

The mystery man had a stocky build with broad shoulders, and his square jaw rested under an unsmiling mouth. He seemed incredibly focused, standing as if the blood in his veins had been replaced with cement.

Brodrin caught others stealing glances at the new kid. Still, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. When they weren't inspecting the new arrival, everyone in the room seemed to be peaking over at him. _It's just your stupid nerves. Of course people are going to worry about me. I'm rated number one. Besides, they saw what I did in the preliminaries. They're going to be keeping me in their sights until the fighting starts. Then I'll blend in._

The door to the room swung open, letting the screams and shouts from the crowd rush in. Everyone lined up and Brodrin made sure that he brought up the end of the line.

This was it. For six years, he'd trained for this. He had hurt a lot of people to get to this point. Now he just needed to hurt a few more and he'd be there. Then the line lumbered forward, the roar of the crowd getting louder and louder.

* * *

Sunshine flooded in from the multiple windows of Brodrin's apartment. The counters were spotless and bare. The blue walls were so light that the sunlight made them look almost white.

Brodrin grabbed the one armchair in his apartment, hurtling it as far as he could. He spun around as he looked for the next inanimate object that would be his victim. Suddenly, he found himself staring into his own dark green eyes. The thin, unlit screen, with which he'd watched countless hours of the games, shot back a reflection. For a moment, he glared at his face, at the scar that rested on it.

His fists collided with the glass over and over. Quickly, the fractured glass seemed to bleed more with each punch. Eventually, there was nothing left. Fragments of blood and glass covered the otherwise spotless floor.

The anger still swirled inside him, but he felt it begin to burrow beneath his skin, where it usually hid itself.

 _I'm an idiot. A fool,_ he thought. Now he realized the mistakes that he'd made. _I risked everything just so I could flaunt about. I don't even care what those people think of me._

He thought about heading over to Pell's, but then decided against it. Instead, he set his chair upright and took a seat. He could tell that he'd broken at least one of the legs, as the chair unevenly slouched to one side.

As he stared at the spot on the wall, where the screen once hung, he felt a sudden urge to watch one of the games.


	11. Chapter 11 - Hand Holding

**Chapter 11 – Hand Holding**

Kaylor lifted his hand up to knock on the door, but his wrist seemed to fail him. He struggled to will his hand to make the simplest of motions, but it wouldn't. Instead he stood there for what felt like a full minute, thankful that no one was watching him.

 _It's not that big of a deal. Just do it,_ he urged himself.

Finally, he brought his knuckles into the wood, and the knock echoed with uncertainty. At first, the door squeaked open only slightly. He could see a fraction of a light blue eye. Then the door abruptly swung open.

"Kaylor!" She whispered his name, but the excitement was blatant. She yanked him inside, and before he had a chance to speak she gave him a hug, squeezing just right.

"H-hi Pell," he blurted out.

She dropped her arms from around him, looking him directly in the eyes. "Sorry, I know I can be a little forward sometimes," she smiled. "Okay maybe a lot forward. It's part of my charm."

He returned her smile effortlessly.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked.

"I'm alright," he said. "Thank you though." The first time he had come to her place, he had said 'yes' to tea. Thinking back on that moment, he realized it might be unkind to request tea from her. He had never had to go hungry in his whole life, yet he knew the bulk of District 2's citizens didn't have it so easy.

"Perfect. I don't have any tea left. I need to ask anyway. Manners ya know."

Kaylor laughed. "Bit of a gamble. What if I would have said 'yes'?"

"We would have a legitimate catastrophe on our hands," she said, motioning for them to go to her room.

Pell's room was just as small as he remembered. The apartment had no carpet; with the hard concrete making the floors look naked.

Pell leapt onto her bed. She crossed her legs, sitting up straight with perfect posture. "I would tell you to come sit next to me, but I can tell that you're going to need some time to get used to me."

Kaylor remained standing, unsure of what to do. He wanted to sit by her. He wanted to be closer to her. The guilt of wanting such things made him feel rigid. "You haven't even asked why I'm here yet," he said, curious.

She shrugged.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have followed Brodrin here and brought some drunk asshole to your door," he said, looking at the floor. "That was messed up."

"Are you kidding? I'm so happy you did that. If you hadn't, we probably would have never met. That," she lifted her pointer finger, "would have been messed up."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"See."

Without thinking, he sat down on the bed. Catching himself he quickly said, "Is this okay?"

She nodded with a chuckle.

"Have you seen Brodrin lately?" he asked.

The smile never left her face. "Not since last week, when I actually got to meet you."

"So you don't know what happened in the Final Emulate yesterday?" he asked.

Pell's smile plummeted off her face. She looked out the window at the full moon; its pale light filled the room. "Is he alive?"

"Yeah of course. No one's died in the Emulate in years."

"Jeez, don't scare me like that." Exhaling, she pushed him playfully. "You can't tell me what happened though. I know Brodrin will want to tell me himself. It's his story to tell."

"That's a good point, I'll keep my mouth shut then." Kaylor's eyes kept wandering over to the bedroom door. He was terrified that it would open, and Brodrin would storm in, getting the wrong impression.

"Anyways, the Emulate has never been my favorite subject. Let's talk about you."

"I'm not that interesting."

"Oh, I disagree," she said. "Brodrin has told me a few things."

"You mentioned that last time. You said that you'd heard about me?"

She nodded her head.

"How? Did Brodrin tell you about me? He made it clear that he could care less what happened to me. I could get mauled by a rabbit, and he wouldn't even find it amusing."

"Maybe," she laughed. "But that's his secret to tell you."

Kaylor looked around the room. The paintings weren't framed, and the sheets of colorful paper languidly hung from the walls. The paintings were mostly landscapes, with lakes and mountains abound. "I like the artwork."

"Thanks. You paint?"

"A little," he said.

"Well, I wish I could take credit for these masterpieces, but I can't."

"Yeah I know," he said absentmindedly, still inspecting a piece where the mountain reflected off a lake.

She chuckled. "Do I not come off as the artsy type?"

His gaze tore from the paintings, and he held up his hands. "No I'm sorry. It's not like that."

"Kidding," she said, flashing a smile. She gazed at the paintings herself, which it seemed like she did often. "But how did you know?"

He hesitated. "It didn't fit. Not with who you are."

"And who am I?"

"You're thoughtful. You think of others before yourself. That's why you always offer tea, even when you don't have any. You're not self-indulgent. You seem interested in learning about me, rather than telling me your story. Someone who would hang up this much of their own work would definitely love mirrors way too much. So it has to be someone else's. Most likely a relative."

"Perceptive," she said, sounding impressed.

"Thanks. That's one of the few things I'm decent at."

"Reading people?"

He nodded.

"That probably comes in handy."

"Definitely," he looked back at the door again. "I'm sorry I'm freaking out a little bit. Is there any chance that Brodrin could just walk in, get the wrong idea, and then proceed to beat me to death?"

Her laugher filled the room. Kaylor found himself loving the sound of her laugh a little more each time he heard it. It was boisterous and serene, yet always fleeting. _I wish she would just keeping laughing, and just not stop for hours. Is that weird to want?_

"No he never comes around this late. When he comes, it's always just after nightfall," she said. "Besides if he does, I'll protect you."

"I don't know him as well as you, but I get the vibe that he's the jealous type."

"Oh I see. You think we're together."

"Aren't you?" he asked.

"Nope." She put a hand over her mouth, as if to tell a secret. "We've never even held hands."

 _Hell yes!_

"Handholding requires a ton of trust. Takes most people a few years before they even think of trying it," he said, with thick sarcasm in his tone.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of commitment."

"Few are."

The two laughed. Kaylor barely noticed as he lounged in her bed a bit more, letting his back rest on the wall.

Then Pell glided her fingers through her long, brown hair. It instantly became one of Kaylor's most favorite things in the world. His skin prickled as he tried to act natural.

"I don't mean to overstay my welcome. I can go."

"Stay," she said with a smile. "Just a little bit longer."

"Okay."


	12. Chapter 12 - Trio

**Chapter 12 - Trio**

Angry fists smashed into the punching bag as Brodrin felt a new sense of purpose. More than ever, he had to prove himself. He was the best. He would show everyone just what kind of fighter he was. _Deadly_ , he thought to himself. _In more ways than one._

The day had been mostly absent of the sun, with the stubborn clouds refusing to let any rays pass through them. The smooth walls looked flawless, with the empty balconies containing nothing but air.

Once he had finished with the bags, he made his way across the training hall over to the reaction-time machines. Six padded circles hung in front of him. All he had to do was hit the pads as they lit up. In two years, no one had beaten his time.

Then the main entrance slowly opened. Brodrin guessed it to be Allexin. Instead, the last person he wanted to see emerged from behind the metal doors.

Brodrin had only bothered to find out the kid's name after the Final Emulate. Aillan Stonebree, the mystery fighter, who had come out of nowhere to rank fourth in the Emulate.

He had barely walked a few steps before Brodrin said, "What the hell do you want?"

"I never had a chance to properly introduce myself to you," he said, walking up to Brodrin with an outstretched hand. "Aillan Stonebree."

He looked at the hand for a moment, and then returned his gaze to the training machine. "That's it? You just wanted to tell me your name?"

Aillan retracted his hand and put both behind his back. "In truth, I wanted to vocalize my admiration of your talents. Your prowess as a fighter is well above proficient."

"You always talk like this? I bet you're the life of the party wherever you go." He punched the pads with all his weight behind the strikes.

"I'm afraid I do not completely understand what I have done to invite this kind of hostility."

"Fine robot. You want to play dumb?"

Aillan's posture was perfect. His hair was buzzed, showing his scalp, and he looked at the sweaty career with a stoic gaze.

Brodrin turned to face the person that had become one of his greatest enemies in less than a week. "Rematch. Weapons, no weapons. You choose." His fists remained clenched, even after he had stopped hitting the light-up pads.

"I don't see the purpose of fighting with you again. The only thing that we stand to potentially gain from sparring is injury."

"That last fight was bullshit, and we both know it. A fair fight. That's what I want."

"Perhaps one day I'll have the opportunity to indulge you. But not today I'm afraid." Aillan turned to make his exit, but after a few steps he stopped. He turned to look back at Brodrin. "By the way, I understand why you kept your scar."

"What?"

"I understand that you live on the highest level of one of the towers. Suffice to say, you have plenty of resources to comfortably get your scar removed, if you desired it." He rolled up the material on the right arm of his long-sleeved shirt. Exposing a long, dark scar. The skin was slightly raised where the wound had once been opened. "I look at mine often, to remind me of how I got it and the lessons it taught me." He didn't wait for a response, quickly turning to leave.

His fury was cold and silent. The cruelest taunt or insult would have felt better than what he had said. He'd made the ultimate comparison between the two of them. As if they were similar people. _I'm nothing like that inanimate object._

He let his fingers brush against the scar on his face.

* * *

Night had fallen over the district, with Brodrin scooping the last of the glass from his viewing screen off the floor. Though washing the blood had turned out to be the real ordeal.

Once finished, he turned his sights towards the kitchen and began to prepare a chicken breast for supper. No spices or salt would touch his food. He kept everything bland and tasteless. Eating had never been something that he allowed himself to enjoy. If he wasn't eating food that he found disgusting, he made sure to keep it as joyless as possible.

A _clicking_ sound came from the door as it opened slowly. He turned to face the door in true bewilderment. He never had visitors. Never.

Pell hopped through the door, throwing off the hood of her jacket. "I love what you've done with the place since my last visit." Which was about two years ago.

"Pell! What are you doing here?"

But before she had a chance to answer, Kaylor slipped through the door. He looked extremely nervous. He shut the door behind him as quietly as he could. Then he awkwardly waved at Brodrin.

"What the hell are you two doing here? Together?"

"It's been three days since the Emulate. You couldn't even stop by to let me know you were okay?" She gestured over to Kaylor. "He had to come and tell me that you weren't dead or in a coma."

Brodrin put his hands on his head. "I've had a frustrating week."

"You can tell us all about it while you cook," she said, taking a seat at the island countertop. "What's for dinner?" Her smile never seemed to leave her.

Brodrin did not like this. He had worked so hard to cover his tracks about Pell, and now it felt as if everything had been blown out into the open. But there was no point in trying to turn back time. "Take a seat Kaylor," he said with an icy tone.

He took his seat next to Pell. "This isn't one of those scenarios where you lull me into a false sense of security, and then you brutally murder me is it?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," he said, pulling the one sharp knife out of a drawer as he aggressively cut up the chicken.

Kaylor adjusted his seat, unable to sit still.

"So you told her about what happened in the Emulate?" Brodrin asked without looking up at Kaylor. The meat sizzled from within the frying pan.

"He did not," Pell interjected. "Kaylor is a gentleman, so he wanted me to hear the story from you. All I know is that you didn't die."

Silent relief washed over him. Brodrin had wanted to explain everything to her himself. Kaylor had been competent enough not to take that away from him.

He placed a plate of chicken down between the two of them. The meat had been cut into bite-sized pieces. A single fork rested on the plate. "I only have one fork. And one plate."

"I'm not going to steal your dinner," she said as if it were obvious.

"I have more. You eat and I'll tell you what happened."

"Deal," she said, taking a bite and nudging the plate towards Kaylor.

"I'm not hungry," he said. His gaze lingered on the desolate living room. Then it moved to the two rooms with closed doors.

She shrugged and resumed eating, the pieces of chicken quickly disappeared from the plate. "Story time Brodrin."

He let out a bitter exhale. "The fight was a disaster from the beginning. I hadn't moved more than a few feet from my pedestal before Renklin tackled me."

"Someone put him up to it," Kaylor interjected.

Brodrin nodded. "By the time I had put him down, most of the other guys had weapons. Most fought each other, but two of them came at me. I got hit disarming one of them. But at the end of that fight, at least I had a sword. Then everything really went to shit. Once I came into anyone's peripheral vision, they stopped what they were doing and just mauled me. A few times, two were fighting, only to completely stop once they noticed me. Then they attacked me together. Eventually it was just me. I was exhausted and most of my body was seizing up from the hits I'd taken. But that asshole was still standing."

Pell gave a confused look.

"Aillan Stonebree," Kaylor said. "He isn't a career but he signed up for the Emulate. Our head trainer ranked him fourth, even though he hadn't trained with any of the careers."

"Maybe he trained with a few in secret," Brodrin said.

"I probably would have picked up on it. I'm in that training hall during most of the off hours," Kaylor said.

Brodrin continued his tale. "I spoke to the guy earlier today. He's so rigid. It was as fun as talking to an alarm clock." He gripped the counter, squeezing it, as the memories of their little chat flooded back. "Anyway, I expected him to come at me. Try to finish me quick. I was ready for that. I had 15 seconds of fight left in me. Instead, he just stared and told me to go to the top floor of the cornucopia once I'd taken a breath and grabbed my swords. I'd been using some crappy long sword the whole time. I grabbed my swords and went up immediately."

"You didn't take a break to catch your breath? I thought he said you could," Pell said, finishing the last of the chicken.

"No. I didn't need any help beating him. Especially from him. So I went up right away. The fight didn't last too long. I barely had anything left, and he knew that."

Pell got up from her chair, hurrying around the island countertop, with arms outstretched. "I'm so proud of you hun. Making it that far. I would say, 'try not to beat yourself up,' but I know you." She wrapped her arms around him.

Brodrin stood still, refusing to reciprocate the embrace. "Pell, I won."

"What? How? You made it sound like you were done for. Then why are you acting like your soul's been surgically removed or something?"

"Because Pell. He let me win."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You tell her Valden." Brodrin lumbered over to his living room chair.

Kaylor stayed facing Pell. "For the most part, it was obvious that Aillan had much more energy left. He hadn't taken any hits, and he'd fought about four other careers. Brodrin had to fight about twice that number, and he'd taken a ton of hits. Honestly, I don't know how he stayed standing. Towards the end, Aillan got him in the leg with his spear, sending Brodrin to the ground. Everyone expected Aillan to finish him then."

Brodrin interjected, "I kept my swords up the whole damn time. I wasn't some puppy at his mercy."

"But Aillan just stared at him for a second. Then he placed his spear down, and just left the cornucopia. Once he was out, he forfeited. No one knows why."

"Who cares as to why? Now most of the school considers me to be the first career to have lost the Emulate and still fight in the games."

"I'd say it's more like half and half. A lot of people still think you would have pulled out the win."

"Who cares what anyone else thinks!" Pell said. "Isn't this what you wanted? You've been training all your life so you can go into the Hunger Games and kill some other kids."

"Eloquently put," Kaylor said with a smile.

"I'm not going to ignore what the Emulate is for. What all your training is for," she said as she approached Brodrin, slumped in his chair. She crouched in front of him, so that her eye line was level with his. "You don't have to do this. You can stay here in 2. It can be the three of us, taking this place by storm."

He stared at the ground. "Pell, I'm still pretty tired from everything."

She nodded. "That's our cue Kay."

"Nicknames already," Brodrin murmured.

"Can I walk you home?" Kaylor asked.

"That would be absolutely lovely."

"Be discreet."

The two threw on their jackets. "Of course darling," she said.

"Pell, could I talk with Brodrin for a sec. It won't take long, I promise."

She looked surprised about this. "Yeah of course." She walked over to Brodrin and pressed a kiss on his cheek before silently leaving the room.

"So you and Pell huh?" Brodrin asked.

"We're just friends," he said. "She's great."

"She's my only friend, and the only good person I know. You hurt her, I'll tear your arms off," he said in a monotone voice.

"No pressure there."

"Why did you want to talk to me without her? Want some tips to charm her. Find out what her favorite flowers are?"

"Jarrett's dead," Kaylor said. "Someone killed him."

"What?" He stood up and turned to face Kaylor.

"I found his body an hour before the Final Emulate for the girls. He'd been stabbed with one of the swords from the weapons locker. He was just laying there by the Cornucopia."

"I haven't heard anything at the Academy. Everyone would be talking about that nonstop."

"I told Scruff. He passed it on, and some of the staff from the Rez Deck came and cleaned everything up. I don't know what they did with the body. But they want it kept a secret."

"Anyone talk to you since?"

"Scruff has tried, but he just seems interested in seeing if I'm okay. He never told me to keep my mouth shut. I thought he would."

"Meet me at the lake tomorrow night."

"When and where? It's a big lake."

"Doesn't matter, just be there. I'll find you."

"Is making plans with you always this excitingly cryptic?"

"Pell's waiting. Get her home safe, and don't let anyone see you two."

"You got it, and tomorrow night at that very specific location and time, which we agreed to. Can't wait."

Brodrin gave his signature stare, and Kaylor made his way to the door. Then Brodrin was alone again. He let the thought dance in his head for a moment, but only a moment. _Just the three of us._


	13. Chapter 13 - Story Trading

**Chapter 13 – Story Trading**

Kaylor treaded lightly through the pale halls of the academy. His mind remained adrift about last night. He wasn't entirely sure of what to expect when he'd come into Brodrin's home, but what he observed left him apprehensive.

Pell seemed reluctant in sharing Brodrin's past with him. But he couldn't figure out if that was because she didn't know it herself, or she didn't fully trust him yet. She had only instructed one thing before they walked through Brodrin's door. "Don't mention his family. Nothing about who he lives with." She said it with a seriousness that he'd never seen before. It almost looked unnatural on that face of hers, which never seemed to frown.

Kaylor dodged student after student, specifically maneuvering to avoid getting too close to any of the careers. Failed careers were more dangerous than any. They were angry, looking tirelessly for someone or something to vent their rage on.

 _He has to live alone. He seems to have only one of everything. Either that, or he's just really selfish and his roommate's a pushover,_ he thought to himself.

Kaylor noticed the hallway begin to bulge up with people. Students in front of him began to stand on their toes, trying to peer over the crowd at something. He wiggled his way through the few open gaps he could use until he found himself at the front of the pack. A big gap had formed with onlookers on both sides of the hall.

"You little shit!" The boy had grabbed another student by his white collar. His victim couldn't have been older than 13. He had tiny wrists that uselessly dangled at his sides.

The career was named Bentlan. Everyone just called him Bent. Being 17, he only had one year left before the games would be out of his reach. He was short but incredibly stocky. His arms were thick, and he had a tiny bit of facial hair coming through his chin.

"You little shit. How would you know who's going to win next year?"

 _Bentlan must have overheard some of the kids talking about next year's Emulate._ It wasn't uncommon. Usually it took less than a week before people started talking about who would win the next one.

Bentlan's victim had nothing to say. He tried not to make eye contact, hoping the situation would defuse on its own. The career jerked him backward into the wall again. "What? Now you have nothing to say?" He threw the speechless student to the floor. When he tried to get back up, blood dripped from his bottom lip.

The sight of blood sent a surge of adrenaline through Kaylor. Then without thinking, he barreled into the bully, sending both of them to the floor.

The onlookers gasped and shouted at the Kaylor's unexpected addition to the situation. A few even cheered quietly.

 _What the hell did I just do?_ He shot back up as quickly as he could and yanked the boy from the floor. "Get the hell out of here kid."

The boy took his advice and bolted towards the crowd of students standing by, watching intently.

Suddenly something hit him square in the cheek, hard. The blow made his brain feel like mush. He wasn't sure if he had been punched or kicked. His head hung above the floor, another hit landing on the back of his head. But they didn't stop there. The blows came one after the other, each one just as hard and furious as the last.

Kaylor staggered forward, covering his head as much as he could. He heard a scuffling of feet and then the punches stopped coming. He looked backwards to see what was going on. Someone had come in between the two of them. He had his back to Kaylor, but the tall figure still looked familiar.

"You?" he said. "Get out of my way."

The other shook his head with the slightest of shakes.

Bentlan peered past his new adversary at Kaylor as he picked himself back up. The fact that he could stand seemed to reinvigorate the career's anger, as if the pummeling he'd received obviously wasn't good enough then. Bentlan charged and swung with a powerful left hook. His opponent lifted one arm to block and immediately followed it with a counter swing. He moved so swiftly, it looked like one fluid action.

Bentlan dropped to the floor, unable to brace himself. The entire hallway went blank with silence. No one moved or breathed. They just stared at the unconscious career.

The one still standing turned around to look at Kaylor. He felt his eyebrows scrunch together as confusion washed over his face. "Aillan?"

"It would be wise to visit the Restoration Deck. You may have a concussion." He walked towards the crowd with rigid steps. The observing students quickly made a path.

No longer afraid of Bentlan, a few students with white collars rushed up to Kaylor. Most of them were ones that he sat by at lunch. They herded him through the clogged-up hallway, all talking at once.

"We better get you out of here bud, before he wakes up."

"Yeah, the guides and nurses will be here any second."

Ella placed a hand on his arm. "When did you decide to get so brave?"

Kaylor tried to shake off all the hands that kept coming into contact with him as he moved through the hall. Every student without a black collar seemed to want to give him a pat on the back or shake his hand.

They all seemed too excited to finally see a regular student come out of a tussle with a career actually conscious. _This should be Aillan's moment. Why did he do it? Risk himself for me?_

* * *

When Kaylor made it to the lake, it was almost midnight. He had to make sure his parents were sound asleep before making his escape. However, he had made plans to soon neutralize the stress that came with sneaking out. For the past week, he'd made little hints of a massive project that was coming up for him. It would require him to stay at the academy extremely late, helping some of the trainers on the new cornucopia.

He had put in a wonderful performance of showing his excitement, and although he hated using his parents' sympathies, it had made them easy to manipulate ever since he'd stopped being a career.

The still water made little noise as Kaylor strolled along the lake's edge. There were a few trees scattered nearby, but the rocky terrain made it difficult for much to grow.

 _Being this dark, Brodrin probably won't even notice my cheek,_ he thought to himself in relief. It had become noticeably swollen from his interaction with Bentlan.

"About time you showed up," a voice said from the shadows. "That took a decade."

He whipped around to see Brodrin emerge from the darkness. "It's nice to see you too."

Brodrin walked past him, staring out at the lake. The crescent moon reflected its light off the dark water.

Kaylor positioned himself next to the stoic career. "Is this the part where you stop being so mysterious and explain why we're hear?" He held his hands out as if presenting the landscape, "Gotta say, this is definitely the perfect setting for a murder. Just so you know, I wouldn't be that fun to kill. I'd definitely cry a lot, and I'm an ugly crier."

Far from amused, Brodrin gave a blank look.

"Sorry."

"I like the water," he said, still staring out at it. "I always have. The sound of the waves, the feel of it, the way the ripples expand. I love it."

Kaylor wasn't exactly sure how to respond. _Is this his way of opening up?_

"I hate District 2 Academy. I've hated it for years, but one thing I don't hate are the Canals. When they built those things a few years back," he sighed without any conviction, "it helped. I love watching the water flow. When I was 9, I wrote a story about a fictional city that lived on the water. I was so proud of it. Then my guide read it. She rewarded my weeks of writing by failing me and explaining to the whole class what was wrong with writing a fake story. The assignment was supposed to be a formal essay. I cried in front of everyone the entire time."

An owl hooted in the distance and crickets chirped soothingly. For some reason all this made Kaylor feel relaxed, more so than he'd felt in a long time, despite the less-than-friendly company.

"I'm telling you this because I haven't told anyone about it. I'm telling you this because I'm about to tell you a story about Pell."

"Why?"

"The story I just told you. I want you to tell it to her. She's the best at keeping secrets. She thinks that people deserve to tell their own stories, so she's not much into gossip."

"That makes a lot of sense. She wouldn't let me tell her what happened to you in the Emulate."

"I need to tell you a story about her. This way, when she finds out I told you, at least I'll have traded her. A story for a story."

"Do you guys do this a lot?"

"Never," he began walking, keeping to the water's edge. "Like most people, Pell had a father at one point. He was a good man. He worked in the Nut. He was the demolitions expert, so he helped make new tunnels within the mountains. One day the explosives went off prematurely, killing 8 people, him included. Whether it's true or not, word got out that Pell's father was responsible for the accident. The 8 that died left plenty of relatives and friends who needed someone to be angry at. As a result, Pell was unofficially excommunicated. Everyone refused to hire her, buy anything from her, even sell food to her."

"How could they punish her for that?"

"They just needed someone to blame. She was the closest thing to her father that they could get. Anyone that didn't agree got strong-armed into going along with it. Most people suck," he said, sending a rock flying with his foot. "Back then, I used to come out here late at night. The towers drop their waste off just around that hill," he pointed. The hill was about 100 yards away from the lake. "I found her rummaging through the garbage for food. Where she lives, people don't often waste anything edible. For us it's a different story."

"She must have been starving," he said, "the penalty for sneaking over to the towers."

"If the peacekeepers were in a good mood, she'd have been whipped. So, I brought her to my apartment, got her fed."

"That's why you started sneaking over to her place, to give her food."

"For almost 2 years, I've done it every other day."

"But with you leaving for the games…"

"I'll need someone else to do it. Pell made it seem as though her _gracious_ neighbors would be coming around at any moment. But they're more likely to make her mayor than give her a job."

"You won't ever have to worry. I can get her more than enough food." Kaylor understood what he was truly asking. There was no guarantee that he'd be coming back.

"I'm trusting you Kaylor. Please, keep her safe." For that one moment, his tone seemed almost gentle. "Please."

"I know how much she means to you. She means a lot to me too. I'll do everything to protect her. Besides, chances are, she'll end up saving my ass more than I save hers."

"Thanks kid. I know I'm asking a lot. I won't forget it."

"Don't mention it, besides we're the Trio now."

"What?"

"You know, The Trifecta, The Triumvirate, The Triple Threat." With each title, he struck an over-enthusiastic pose.

It was too dark for Kaylor to see the details on Brodrin's face, but he swore that he heard a chuckle from him.

"Come on. There has to be one of those awesome names that you don't completely hate."

For about a minute, Brodrin said nothing. The two just kept their pace as they strode on the lake's edge. "The last one wasn't the worst."

"Triple Threat!" he said a little louder than he intended.

"Keep your damn voice down," he whispered.

"Sorry."

"Let's get out of here Valden."

"Before we go. I want you to have this." He rummaged through the pack that he'd brought along and handed him a small box.

The career inspected the box hesitantly.

"Just open it."

When Brodrin did so, a blue light burst out, illuminating his face.


	14. Chapter 14 - Broken Diets

**Chapter 14 – Broken Diets & Hollowed Hearts**

Brodrin inspected Kaylor's gift, a bracelet that he wore on his left wrist. Even in the sun, the light shined bright. The object emitted a soft beautiful glow that teased his senses. A bright green light subtly turned into an even lighter blue one and then reverting back again in a constant cycle. The light came from an intricate pattern that flowed like waves all the way around the accessory. The metal of the bracelet appeared to look like some unique form of silver. Kaylor had built the whole thing himself.

Brodrin lumbered aboard the hovercraft. It had a similar exterior to most of the other flying vehicles, but the inside had a very different ambiance to it. The interior had been carpeted in vibrant colors. The walls were a light shade of purple, while the carpet rested quietly beneath everything else, pale and white. _It looks like a bunch of grapes threw up everywhere,_ he thought.

When he entered the dining room, everything had been prepared. A large turkey, cooked golden brown, rested at the far end of the table. Various types of jams, assorted meats and salads, eggs cooked in every way, lobster, and plenty of foods that Brodrin didn't recognize littered the large table. The pastries, desserts, drinks, and sauces occupied the smaller tables.

He heard the door across the room open, but he didn't bother to look to see who had entered. He had a very good guess. "Brodrin Locke! The dual-blading magician!"

Brodrin looked up, his guess had been correct.

The man was elegantly dressed in a light grey suit, with a dark blue tie and matching cufflinks. Tiny flecks of silver covered every inch of fabric, making the suit shimmer off the light from the windows. The style was all the rage in the Capitol.

"Korbin Coppal," he thrust out a hand. "You probably already knew, but I'll be your mentor for these illustrious games."

Brodrin had been hoping that Korbin would decline his role as mentor this year. District 2 had plenty of victors to choose from to mentor the tributes. As a result, the victors had to take turns mentoring. Most wanted to do it, as mentoring another victor was a great way to increase prestige. No one needed a reputation boost more than Korbin, but Brodrin had hoped against the odds that he would turn down the position.

The career shook the man's manicured hand hard.

"That's one strong grip you've got there young man. I wouldn't expect any less. You're reputation precedes you," he said with a smile of flawlessly white teeth.

"As does yours."

Korbin's smile fell, but only for a second. The mentor quickly recollected himself. "Please have a seat. You must be starving."

 _I've never actually known what that's like, to starve. Neither has the asshole in front of me._ The two took their places across from each other at the table. _Nothing at this damn table looks bad._ With a surge of guilt, Brodrin piled the plate high with a bit of everything. He needed the energy.

"Can't say I'm a fan of the purple," murmured a monotone voice outside of Brodrin's peripheral vision.

 _How the hell did I not hear her come in?_ He spun around in his chair. Niah stood there, scanning the room and looking unimpressed by the array of luxury.

"Niah Prellemor! The dark horse of the Emulate!" Korbin stood up. "You can't possibly know how delighted I am that you've made it so far. Come join us! We'll soon be ready to depart."

Her posture transformed in an instant. "Korbin! You're looking as dashing as ever." Her voice had become all sweet, dainty even. "I'm so happy that you're our mentor for the games."

"I'm nothing short of delighted myself," he replied. "Please help yourself to our humble accommodations."

Within a minute, Niah's plate rested underneath a mountain of food. It made Brodrin's edible heap look like the tiny younger brother.

"Darling," he chuckled, "do you actually intend on eating all of that? It's enough to feed every peacekeeper in the Capitol."

She let out an elegant laugh. "You're so funny Korbin. Of course I do."

"I have to say, I have my doubts," he said, "but if you can do it, I'll be quite impressed."

Brodrin would have bet his left arm that she wouldn't eat all that food. The girl was 18 and medium height, but her body was extremely thin. Her wrists were bony and her arms and legs seemed a bit lanky. Glass looked more durable than her.

The three of them began to eat as the hovercraft gracefully rose into the air causing a sensation as if the floor pushed up against them.

The takeoff didn't interest Korbin in the slightest. He immediately began conversations about strategy for the games. With him, there wasn't a moment of silence. He kept everything light and friendly, mostly finding himself conversing with Niah.

"Brodrin, what kind of score are you aiming to get from the gamemakers? Now I think it wouldn't be overambitious to aspire for a 9 or 10." The former tribute dabbed his clean-shaven chin with a silk napkin. He had eased into his forties quite well. His brown hair didn't show any signs of greying, though it could have been artificial. In addition, his skin looked smooth, showing no signs of wrinkling.

The lack of belief frustrated Brodrin. He had zero doubt in his mind that he could get a 12 if he so desired. "I've got my score all figured out."

"Well, I admire the confidence. However, I do think we should bounce our ideas off each other about how best to achieve the highest score, for both of you." He smiled and took a bite of a powdered pastry. Besides a few sweets, he had barely touched the food. "Now, perhaps it would be wise to go over how we will assess our rival tributes. I've heard that District 1 has some exceptionally dangerous tributes this year. Brodrin, how do you feel about an alliance with—"

"I've got my alliances figured out too." He didn't lift his eyes from his nearly barren plate.

Korbin cleared his throat. "Brodrin, I understand where you're coming from. You're a career. You've trained your whole life. You've thought every day about your strategy and how everything will transpire in the coming weeks. But trust me. From experience, I know that things don't always go as expected." He clapped his hands with a soft enthusiasm. "I'm your mentor. Please, use my experience to your advantage."

"I've got it figured out Korbin. If I need help learning how to murder someone in their sleep, you'll be the first person I come to."

Then the first bit of awkward silence came. Brodrin stared out the window. The mountains of his district continued to shrink in the distance. He wondered if he would miss those mountains, or the lake. He wondered if he'd miss the countless hours he'd spent sitting on his sofa, watching the games. Then he thought about the only people he knew. _Will I miss them? Will they miss me?_

"Finished!" Niah said. The plate didn't have a single trace of food left on it, while Brodrin still had a few bites left to eat. "I'm going to take a nap before we land. Korbin will you make sure to wake me?"

"Of course my dear. We can't have you missing you're introduction to the Capitol." His voice boomed with excitement. "The entire city is already dying to meet you!"

"You really think so? Thank you Korbin. Wow Brodrin you're almost done with all your food. Impressive. That was quite a large meal," she said as she made her exit. Korbin fidgeted with his jacket sleeves as she threw Brodrin a quick wink.

The games hadn't even come close to beginning, yet Brodrin already felt like he'd experienced a defeat.

* * *

The entire journey from District 2 to the Capitol only lasted a few hours. Brodrin had found himself alone at the table for most of the trip. Korbin had gone to check on their escort. Apparently, he had fallen ill just before the reaping.

Brodrin could relate, as his stomach felt like it was in a knot. His body wasn't used to such rich foods.

He had watched the Reaping of each District twice now. It had given him some useful insight. _That kid from 7 volunteered for some 16-year-old. From the sounds of it, he didn't even know the kid well. He might have planned on volunteering this whole time, so the act doesn't necessarily make him a saint. The girl was odd._ The girl from 6 seemed to resonate with Brodrin in some way that he did not understand. She was the mayor's daughter, so the chances that she would have been reaped were horrendously low. Yet when her name was called, she seemed to look at the girl next to her with intent for an oddly long period of time. The chosen tribute shook her head and placed a hand on the other girl's shoulder, whispering something in her ear. Then she walked solemnly up to the stage. _There's a story there._

Niah glided into the room, once again making virtually no noise. Korbin entered simultaneously. "Ah, and I was just about to come wake you. How was your nap dear?"

"It was lovely. Thank you Korbin."

"Fantastic!" The victor poured himself a drink, a juice of some kind mixed with barely more than a drop of alcohol. "Now when we land at the training center, the prep teams are going right to work on the both of you. We have precious little time before the opening ceremony."

Brodrin stared out the window of the hovercraft. The buildings grew in size as they approached. They seemed to kiss the sky, looming over the ground below and making the towers in District 2 look like sand castles on the beach.

When they landed, Niah and Brodrin moved to follow Korbin. They exited the hovercraft, and Brodrin instantly stared up at the giant skyscraper. It was one of the largest in the whole city, standing tall in its center.

As the trio entered the building, they passed a couple of peacekeepers standing guard at the doors. Korbin proceeded down a few hallways, bustling with working staff from the Capitol, before arriving at the destination. He opened the doors, revealing District 2's prep team.

None of them had the same color hair. Purple, pink, bright green, the colors of their hair matched their eyes.

Korbin extended his hands as if presenting a play to a theater audience. "May I present the illustrious tributes of District 2."

The prep team clapped enthusiastically, encircling the two teenagers. They pummeled the two with questions as they inspected their face, teeth, and any part of their body that had skin on it. Brodrin decided not to put up a big fuss about the prodding hands all over him. He would only have to deal with it for a few days.

The team escorted the two tributes to separate rooms to begin their work. As the prep team made comments about what needed improvement, Brodrin noticed Korbin speaking to one of the team members. She was the only one without an odd color to her hair. It was pitch black, matching the large floral tattoo that started at her cheek and continued down her neck until her clothes obscured the rest.

 _She has to be the head stylist._ The woman nodded intently as Korbin spoke softly to her, out of earshot from everyone else.

Soon enough, Brodrin had been plopped onto what felt like an operating table. "You planning on replacing my liver or something?" he asked the closest prep team member. The edges of her eyes were coated with black makeup that extended all the way to her ears.

She giggled. "Don't you worry. By the time we're done, everyone will love you before you even open your mouth."

"Can't wait," he said dryly.

Then she pulled out a syringe. The sight of the needle made Brodrin's skin crawl.

"Woah, what's that for?"

"This? Oh it's nothing," she chuckled without smiling.

"What do you mean it's _nothing_?"

"It's a shot full of nutrients, vitamins, minerals, and just about everything else that your body likes," said the head stylist.

"Not really sure I need that. I keep a good diet."

"Are you afraid of needles?" the stylist asked with a smile.

Brodrin reluctantly lifted his arm toward the woman holding the syringe. She only took about two seconds to complete the task, and he felt a sense of accomplishment once it was over.

Suddenly a rush of drowsiness washed over him. The world began to blur, and the chatter of the prep team started to become quieter and quieter. He tried to speak, but the words fell from his lips, sounding completely incoherent. Finally, everything went dark.

When he came to, he couldn't focus his vision on any particular object or person. His hands were numb, and it felt like he'd been out for days. "What—what happened?"

Korbin and the prep team stood several feet away from him. "Don't worry, everything went smoothly," he said jubilantly.

"What did—what did you do to me?"

"We just did a little corrective surgery." The outline of Korbin's person slowly became increasingly discernable. "Nothing but improvement."

"Corrective? I don't need correcting."

"You were only out for about 20 minutes. Your prep team performed the scar removal flawlessly."

Brodrin's hand shot to his face, hitting it harder than he would have liked. "My scar? Where's my scar?"

"You don't have to worry about it anymore Brodrin. Your face is back to its natural state."

He sprung up off the table. His legs appeared unsure of themselves, as he wobbled towards the doors, trying to make his exit.

"Brodrin where are you going? Come back!"

Unfortunately, the lingering effect of the drugs made Brodrin's resistance quite minimal. But he made sure his anger couldn't be ignored. He had overturned a tray of cosmetic equipment, punched a hole in one of the walls, and he'd insulted everyone in the room at least four times. The prep team only managed to get halfway done with makeup and hair before the drugs finally wore off. Then Brodrin began to threaten breaking fingers. Hair removal had been done while he was unconscious, but the hair on his head didn't get as much attention as the team wanted.

"Try to touch my hair, and I'll strangle you," he said at one point to the one named Flavian. No one attempted to style his hair again after that.

When Brodrin and Niah made it out to the meeting hall, filled with chariots and their respective tributes, he'd calmed down a little. Still, Korbin had decided to keep several yards distance between the two of them at all times.

The career kept an eye out for any interesting moments, but he knew they would be unlikely at this particular event.

He glanced at the girl from 4. Her left eye had a pale cloudiness to it, a stark contrast from her right one, bright blue. _She's blind in one eye. Must have been from a training accident. Her left side will be vulnerable._

Before he could scope out more weaknesses of the other tributes, the prep teams began to hurry their newly designed projects into the chariots. The booming voice of the crowd soothed Brodrin, reminding him of the Emulate, of feeling alive.

The chariot ride went by without much excitement. The prep team had pulled out all of the standard tricks for the tributes' outfits. Brodrin and Niah wore pieces of grey and black fabric intended to make bring up the image of a mountain. The outfits were extremely puffy. _I look like an overweight koala,_ he thought to himself.

Brodrin didn't wave to anyone, but Niah made up for both of them. Yet as far as he was concerned, it couldn't have ended any sooner.

When Brodrin finally lounged in his bed, sleep could not find him. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling thinking about his opponents. He had been too angry about the loss of his scar to inspect everyone as much as he would have liked. In addition, oddly, Niah lingered in his memory.

She unnerved him. She understood the game well. She had deceived and beaten Hallie, the one who everyone thought would be here with Brodrin in the games. Korbin was also tightly wrapped around her finger, making it likely that he'd work to find her sponsors rather than him. In truth, that didn't worry him in the slightest, but he still didn't like feeling as if he'd lost an unspoken competition, even if it was one in which he didn't want to win.

Suddenly, he jerked upright as he noticed his door begin to open slowly.

The slender figure slipped through the half-opened door. "Niah?" he asked.

"Brodrin." Her monotone voice had returned, unemotional as ever.

"What are you doing?"

"A girl comes to your room in the middle of the night. What's your best guess?"

His heart began to pound against his chest. "We're suppose to kill each other in a few days."

"You think I'll have a problem with that?"

"Is it just hollow right here or what?" he asked, pointing to the spot where the heart was. His own refused to stop beating so fast.

"Quit stalling. Do you want to or not? In a week, we could both be dead. Why not live while we can?"

He'd never even kissed a girl. _I shouldn't._

He had always wanted to, but he had come to terms with the fact that he never would a long time ago. It was easy to say "no" when no one asked. But now, for the first time, someone was actually asking. With the games just a few days away and his strict diet already ruined, declining her offer felt impossible.

He scooted to one side of the bed.

She chuckled as she began to unbutton her silk pajama shirt. "Get up. We won't be needing the bed yet."


	15. Chapter 15 - Cheese

**Chapter 15 - Cheese**

Kaylor walked through the empty halls of the academy. Shadows filled the empty corridors, as over half of the lights were turned off. He found the lead director's office with little difficulty. It was, after all, the one place that no one ever went.

Minutes ago, Allexin had approached Kaylor as he made his way back from the Reaping with a mob of his fellow students. Ella had been chatting non-stop about how Brekk had been such a jerk in the Emulate, so she didn't like him now. She had asked him to take a walk with her when Allexin appeared out of nowhere to save him.

"The lead director wants to see you," he had said.

Kaylor tried to ask more questions, but the head trainer remained stiff and cold in his orders, providing no answers. The walk to the lead director's office was a stressful and perplexing one. _What could the Lead Director want with me? Is this about Jarrett? Allexin hasn't been acting the same ever since his death._

Kaylor didn't know a student alive that had even seen her. There were rumors that she had some major deformity, which was why no one ever entered her office. He had a theory that she didn't really exist. She was just a ghostly figurehead, dreamed up to strike more fear into the students.

But now he stood in front of the ghost's door and exhaled deeply. As he moved his hand to knock, a shout from within the room erupted, "Come in!"

Kaylor didn't give himself anytime to question how she knew as he opened the door. He wasn't sure what he had expected to see once inside, but the sight before him definitely wasn't it.

On the right side of the large room, a massive window nearly took up the full wall. From anyplace in the room, one could get a perfect view of the Nut. Besides the one large window, blank, silver walls enclosed in around Kaylor. At the opposite end of the office, a simple grey desk and two chairs of similar color rested stoically. Behind the desk, the lead director was standing, emphatically flailing a thin sheet of metal in her hands. She wore a navy blue suit jacket with a matching skirt that ended just above her knees.

"Kaylor! Don't be a stranger. Come on over," she said, refusing to ease up on the swinging of her arms.

 _Is she having a seizure?_

Slowly, he made his way across the empty space towards the solitary bits of furniture. When he found himself standing in between the two chairs, the woman finally stopped moving her arms. Slightly out of breath, she walked around her desk at a brisk pace. Her short legs moved quickly to carry her over to him. Her skin was light brown, and her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders. She had a youthful face, with narrow eyes that looked up at Kaylor with enthusiastic intent.

Barely reaching Kaylor's chest in height, she thrust a hand towards him. "Kaylor Valden."

The two shook hands. Both had soft grips. "Thank you Lead Director Ambervin. It's a pleasure to meet you." He silently praised himself for not fumbling over all of his words.

"Please call me Mistell," she waved a hand playfully. "Everything else is just a mouthful. Would you like a seat?"

He nodded and sat down. To his left, there was a fish tank, fully filled with water. Blue and teal pebbles littered the seabed, and atop of them rested a miniature replica of District 2 Academy. But besides that, the tank was void of life.

"Kaylor, would you be a darling and do me a favor? Could you just tap this with your finger?"

He had almost forgotten about the piece of metal she was carrying. It was nearly as thin as paper. She held it up for him. He hesitated for a moment, but then he gave it a stern tap of his pointer finger. Upon contact, the metal shattered like glass, fragmenting into bits of dust. Not a single jagged bit remained.

Kaylor looked at the grey pile of dust on the floor in horror. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Woohoo!" the lead director threw her hands up. "Finally! A little more carbon was all I needed."

"Didn't I just break it?"

"Of course!" she said. "That was the point after all."

"I'm not sure I understand. It's supposed to break?"

"It sure is! Excellent form with the tapping by the way." She made her way around the desk again, sitting across from Kaylor. "I apologize about that little mess. I'll clean it up after you've gone." Mistell scooted her chair forwards. "So you must be very curious as to why I wanted to speak with you."

He nodded.

"Well, I bet you have a good idea as to what this is all about. The incident that occurred with Jarrett is nothing short of a true tragedy. I wish I would have foreseen his fate."

"Do you have any idea of who might have murdered him?" He spoke before thinking, something he didn't enjoy doing, but his emotions had made him overly eager.

"Well, we're still looking into all the possible scenarios of what happened that day. But I need your help in this investigation."

 _I shouldn't have been so forward. She's playing on my emotions. She knows what I want._ "How can I help?"

"As of right now, we have falsified the demise of Jarrett. Recently we've told the public that Jarrett died from an intense sickness. One that isn't contagious, but still deadly on occasion. It's horrid business, and we don't intend to make this deception permanent. We are merely doing this until we can figure out the true cause of Jarrett's death."

"Why did you wait this long to create a cover for him?"

"I wanted to see if you would tell anyone. It seems that you know how to keep a secret."

 _And you want me to continue keeping that secret._

"First, I wanted to establish that my assumptions were correct, and you haven't told anyone about Jarrett's questionable circumstances." She folded her hands on the desk. Kaylor noticed it was incredibly basic. There was no screen that could be initiated, and the desk didn't have any decorative accessories or writing utensils of any kind.

"I haven't told anyone. I only talked about it with Head Trainer Black once." He made extra effort to keep eye contact.

"Thank you Kaylor. Your discretion is genuinely appreciated." Her smile was eerily warm. "Then there's only one other bit of business to attend to. I need you to continue bearing the burden of keeping this secret. It's crucial for us to continue our investigation unhindered. With your help, I'm confident that we'll be able to find the culprits much faster."

 _What the hell is she hiding? She knows more than she's letting on._ "Anything I can do to help."

"Fantastic, we released a statement to some of the public officials yesterday, stating that he was bedridden for quite some time, and he succumbed to his illness early last morning."

He made himself smile. "Got it."

"Thank you so much Kaylor. You have no idea how much this will help. And be sure, once we find out who was actually behind this atrocity, you'll be the first to know. We'll also reveal the truth to the rest of the district once we've discovered it ourselves." Her high-pitched tone made her sound all the more sincere.

"The cover story will let the murderer think he's gotten away with it. He'll let his guard down."

"There's the reason you're the top in the class. Now I won't take up anymore of your time. Go enjoy the rest of the day. It's beautiful out there." She looked out the window as the sunshine poured in.

He got up from his chair. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it darling."

"Why don't you have any fish in your tank?" He pointed over to the empty cube.

"Living things don't deserve to be caged up. Besides, I just really like the look of the water."

With that, he nodded and made his way towards the door. He'd learned much from his encounter with Ambervin. Yet, already his thoughts had begun to drift over to Pell. He caught himself, _I help cover up his murder and then instantly start thinking about a girl. What a great friend I am._

* * *

"Hey stranger," Pell said as she let him in. "Ah, I see. You've taken over Brodrin's sworn duty." She playfully tapped the bag filled with food.

He had snatched bits of the best food in his kitchen and smuggled them to his room, just enough to go unnoticed. He was especially excited to give her the pastries that he'd taken. Yet at the same time, he also felt nervous that she might not like them. Now he very much regretted not asking Brodrin about her particular likes and dislikes with food.

"Thank you," she said placing the assorted edibles on the tiny counter.

"Also, I have a story about him for you. It's a trade since he told me about your father. He said it was only fair that he give you a story in return."

She crossed her arms and looked at the floor. "Mrs. Aplite, next door, she's close to finally giving me a job. I've been hounding her forever."

"What's the job?"

"Garbage disposal. Graveyard shift. It won't be fun, but I'll at least stop being a leech."

Kaylor set the bag on the tiny kitchen counter. "You were never a leach to Brodrin, and you'll never be a leach to me." He looked down at the ground, for some reason afraid to look her directly in the eyes.

Then he felt her lips on his. Their faces joined together seamlessly. Her lips were soft and inviting, and he began to lose himself, forgetting where he was.

When she finally pulled away, it took everything in him not to immediately come back for more.

"I'm sorry, that was… forward."

"Forward is good," he blurted out.

The two laughed, and Pell pulled him in again. Kaylor quickly lost track of time. They could have been kissing for a week, and he'd still feel that it ended far too quickly.

The two sat on her bed, completely clothed, leaning against the cement wall. "Did we move too fast?" he asked. "I mean, we haven't been hanging out that long together."

"You're not going to ever hear me complain," she said with a smirk.

"So you want to hear the story you're owed?"

"Hell yeah!"

Kaylor soon recited Brodrin's dismal tale from his childhood. Pell stayed silent until he had finished.

"Wow that was bleak. So uncharacteristic of him."

His laughed echoed through the small room. "I thought it was endearing."

"So what else did you get up to today?"

"Well I was called to the lead director's office."

She let out a fake gasp. "What did you do this time Mr. Valden."

"I found my ex-best friend murdered in the training hall a few weeks ago."

She sat up stiffly and stared at him.

"They cleaned everything up and took his body away before anyone else knew. Lead Director Ambervin asked that I continue to keep my silence, as it will _help_ their investigation."

"I'm so sorry Kaylor." She hugged him. Her skin felt warm and smooth to the touch.

He then began to tell her everything about what Ambervin had said to him. He told her about how strange her office seemed with the empty fish tank and the bland desk. He told her about how the lead director seemed overly-friendly for someone in such high authority, which unsettled him for some reason. "It felt produced, manufactured."

"Are you going to keep quiet?"

He nodded. "But that doesn't mean I can't do a little investigating of my own. This whole cover-up feels wrong."

"Well, you know where you've got to start at least."

"Where?" he asked.

"The parents. Think about it. That director lady said the fake story is that he died at home. So the parents would have to be going along with the cover."

Kaylor felt a twinge of jealousy for not thinking that up on his own. "Wow, you're right. They've gotta know something."

"And since you came to me with this information," she grinned, "I'll let you come with me."

"That's a kind offer, but it's way too risky."

"Got any extra uniforms?"

"Yes," he said uncertainly. "Why?"

"If I use one of those, Jarrett's parents will never know."

"What if someone else sees you?"

"You know many people who've memorized the face of every student in the Academy?"

He shrugged.

"It's settled." She moved in to kiss him again, this time going for his neck.

 _Fine, let her think she can come. You'll just go without telling her._ "Before I get way too into this—"

"Impossible," she said between kisses.

"What are some of your favorite foods? I forgot to ask Brodrin."

She took a break from his neck. He immediately began to ache for her to return to it. "Cheese," she said.

"What kind of cheese? Oh let me guess, hmm—"

"No you don't understand. My favorite food is cheese."

"You mean like all types of cheese?"

"Now you're getting it." She returned to his neck, and he silently thanked her for it.


	16. Chapter 16 - Competition

**Chapter 16 - Competition**

Brodrin arrived at the Training Center about an hour late. He sat on a stiff metal bench, observing the tributes as they trained. Most looked awkward and completely nervous. He witnessed one boy drop his spear time after time as he tried to stab at a manikin. _This is painful to watch,_ he thought.

The tributes from 1 had also shown up, which didn't surprise him. He assumed that they would begin planning their alliance today. Brodrin was doing the same thing. He continued to peer around, acting as disinterested as possible.

The Training Center had everything to offer, making the Academy's facilities look like second-rate. There were attendants over by the artificial rock wall, for those looking to improve their climbing. There was even an avox or two over by one station to help the tributes practice their punches and kicks on real targets. The careers from 4 had no problem using the breathing punching bags.

The tribute from 6 had a lot of promise. _Gavin Swift, age 17,_ he reminded himself. Easily the tallest tribute, he was rather muscular with almost no body fat. With his defined chin and bright blue eyes, Brodrin knew that he would easily attract sponsors in the games. _He's going to be quite the challenge by the look of him. Can he actually fight? Or is he just all show?_ The towering teen seemed to not stray far from two particularly youthful tributes.

They were too young to be in the games, but everyone had seen tributes like them wrongfully thrown in countless times. The two girls were 12 and 13. No one had volunteered for them.

"He's going to protect me!" one girl said to the other.

"No he's not! Besides your voice is annoying, so I know he won't choose you."

The boy from 6 attempted to intervene, "Woah girls, there's no reason to fight. I'll protect both of you. Don't worry."

 _The giant, yes. The girls, no._

Suddenly an agonizing scream echoed through the hall. Everyone's eyes darted towards the noise. Another younger tribute, standing at the knot-tying station, had a knife sticking out of his shoulder. A small amount of blood oozed from the wound and horror gripped the 13-year-old's face.

Brodrin remembered his reaction during the Reaping. The boy had wailed and cried when he'd been chosen. He begged some of the older boys to volunteer in his place. He'd thrown a few insults at them as he was dragged to the stage, calling them cowards. None of them were able to look at him.

"Whoops. Must have slipped," said the career from District 1. He laughed alongside his partner tribute.

The boy began to cry, almost completely silent from shock, unsure what to do with the blade buried within his shoulder. But before he could decide, a girl barreled in out of nowhere, laying out the male tribute with a single punch. The girl from 1 stopped laughing then. Taken aback, she swung her leg out at the attacker, but the girl caught it without much difficulty. Refusing to let go, she swung the career several feet across the floor, and she landed with a loud crash into a rack of sparring rods.

The room fell silent and everyone, including Brodrin, stared at the girl who'd single-handedly defeated two careers in less than ten seconds. He recognized her immediately. She was slightly taller than average, and her hair seemed to almost trade between red and blonde depending on how the light hit it. Her shoulders were broader than average, and she had pale skin.

The career from 1 clutched at his jaw as he struggled to get up. "What the hell was that?" Before he could lunge at the girl, two trainers rushed in and restricted the 18-year-old. He smiled sinisterly. "You'll end up regretting that one."

The girl stood in place, glaring at him with mute defiance. The other career from 1 seemed to have trouble getting up, but once the trainers had taken both of the careers away, the stoic girl walked over to the wounded tribute. A few medics had already begun attending to him as Brodrin approached.

"Are you okay?" she asked the boy. Her voice was soft, despite not being very high-pitched.

Brodrin decided to answer for him. "He'll be fine. The blade missed any major veins or arteries." She turned to face him. "Quite a show you put on there. You look like you know what you're doing."

"You're one of those careers, aren't you."

"And you're not. Briell Windsow. District 6. But for some reason you seem to fight better than a lot of careers. Most people from 6 can't say that."

"Most people from any district can't say that. But then again, most people don't put a sword in a kid's hand as soon as he learns to walk."

Brodrin leisurely looked around the room, pretending like he wasn't listening. "We start much sooner than that."

"What the hell do you want? Looking to see if you can do better than your other career buddies?" She didn't try to hide the malice from her voice.

"You played your hand too soon. A girl from 6 who can fight like you, no one would have expected that," he said. "But now you're going to be one of the main targets for all of the careers. Two of them weren't enough to take you down, so now you've guaranteed that 1 and 4 will ally together."

"You're going to blame that alliance on me?" Cold anger seethed through her lips. "You careers team up almost every year. Why would this one be any different?"

"Well last year, if you remember, the two from 4 ended up killing the careers from 1. They betrayed them before their truce was up. Career districts don't usually forgive those kinds of things within a year. Usually takes at least two, but I think your little stunt might have mended things prematurely."

"I think it's time you take a walk."

"Relax. I'm just here to warn you… and make an alliance with you."

"Are you serious? I'd rather do just about anything else."

"I'm not here for your super friendly personality, but I know talent when I see it."

She paused for a moment, as her eyes seemed to analyze him. "Come near me again, and I'll break both your wrists."

Brodrin didn't doubt that she could do it. Then he felt a large hand rest on his shoulder.

"The career bothering you?" a low voice asked from behind him.

He knew who it was without looking. Briell's tall friend from 6 had come to save the day. _He thinks he can intimidate me._

She shook her head, keeping eye contact with Brodrin. "This guy just felt like he needed to make a fool of himself, but he's just about finished up."

The career sidestepped, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder and looked up at the massive tribute. "Your right hook needs work. You don't recover fast enough, and it leaves you vulnerable."

He only smiled, "Thanks for the tip."

Bordrin looked back at the girl. "Briell," he said. "Think about it." He then walked towards the exit doors of the Training Center. He'd seen enough for today. He discretely scanned the room once more as he walked, looking for the male tribute from 7, but he was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Brodrin and Niah stared up at the blank ceiling. They lounged on his bed with a large chunk of empty space between them.

"How?" Her tone had the slightest hint of curiosity.

"How do you think?"

"So you just stood there a bit and then left?"

Brodrin nodded. One hand rested beneath his head as he lay next to Niah. A whirlwind of clothes littered the floor. He would never admit it, but he was extremely excited when Niah had returned the following night.

"You think you're clever, getting a 1? You're a career. You can't hide away as an underdog and assume it'll do anything for you, especially when you're score is blatantly forged. It'll freak out the other careers and they'll gun for you first."

 _Exactly,_ he thought to himself."What about you?"

Niah had received a score of ten. The only one who had beaten her score was Gavin Swift, the tribute from 6. He had received an 11 somehow. Brodrin's concerns about the tribute had turned out to be accurate. His prep team, Korbin, even Niah looked intimidated when they heard. This continued to bother Brodrin considerably. _He's not the one to fear._

"I did the whole underdog act to get here, but even I know that it wouldn't fly in the games," she said. "We're careers."

"That was quite the impressive acting role. You were beyond patient to put on a show for that long."

"Five years. I'd seen the best lose way too many times. I wanted to win. You should know, you're little stunts almost cost you your spot."

"I would have beaten him."

"Sure you would have," she said, completely unconvinced.

Brodrin gritted his teeth. "I would have."

He swore that he almost saw her smile, but the faintest hint faded in less than a second. "I trained with Aillan you know."

"What?"

"How do you think I was able to beat Hallie. She's a dumb brute, but she's a good fighter," she said. "If I was going to beat her I couldn't just pretend to suck at training the whole time. I actually needed to train without all those eyes on me."

"So where did you train?"

"The peacekeepers have their own facility. Aillan's father used to be quite high in the ranks. When I found out about him, I promised to keep his secret if he would keep mine."

"Why didn't Aillan just train as a career though?"

"The same reason he didn't finish you off in the Final Emulate. He never wanted to fight in the games. He just wants to become a peacekeeper. At least, that's what _daddy_ wants. Doing what he did in the Emulate will only help him rise through the ranks quicker. But if he won, he'd disappoint everyone by not entering the games."

"So I was just a tool so he could make captain faster."

"Exactly. It worked out well for me." Niah looked bored, playing with her hair. "Training with him was crucial."

 _I was a pawn, a damn pawn in his little game to please his asshole father._ He needed to change the subject before his frustrations became too evident. "Why are you here? Why are you fighting?"

"For the same reason I'm naked in your bed right now."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm the most competitive person you've ever met."

"I had a feeling after our unofficial eating contest."

Her voice held no tinge of vitality. "It doesn't feel good to lose, so I don't do it. There's nothing more enjoyable than a game that last years. Outmaneuvering everyone through deception, where the ultimate loss means your life. It's fun."

"Sounds like a blast."

"I'm not ashamed to say I enjoy winning. You do too. That's why you entered the preliminary matches when you didn't need to. Though you obviously have a few other reasons."

"I won't deny that I enjoy winning."

"Yes, but I enjoy winning for the sake of winning. No one even needs to know that I've won. As long as I do, it doesn't matter. You on the other hand, you need everyone to know that you've won, don't you."

"I don't care what anyone thinks of me. My score should be proof of that."

"I think it's proof of something else."

"Think what you want."

"I will." Then she got up to leave. She grabbed her clothes but didn't bother to put them on. It was late into the night, and everyone was asleep. "Well at least you weren't as terrible this time."

 _Don't do it. Don't be an idiot,_ he told he ignored his own advice."Hey." She turned to look at him; her dark blue eyes still unsettled him. "You can stay tonight if you want. We're always the first ones up anyway," he said without making eye contact.

Her laugh was cold and void of pleasure. "You haven't figured it out yet, huh."

"I guess I haven't. Never mind."

"Such a gentleman," she replied. "Remember at lunch a few weeks ago. When Hallie made you a very blunt proposition?"

 _Is she talking about the time that Hallie made a pass at me?_ Suddenly it all clicked for him.

"Like I said, I don't care if they know that I beat them. As long as I know." She walked out of the room, silent as silk.

It took everything in him not to tear his temporary room apart. He sat up and punched his pillow repeatedly.

 _She used me! I was some trophy! I should never have slept with her! Stop being such a damn idiot!_ He touched the smooth skin of his face where his scar used to be.


	17. Chapter 17 - Phantom

**Chapter 17 - Phantom**

"Why would he throw his training score like that?" Kaylor asked with genuine bewilderment. "It doesn't make any sense. It serves no purpose."

"Could he have missed his evaluation? Maybe some of the food made him sick?"

"That makes a lot more sense than anything else. Some tributes do like to float under the radar with their scores, but there's no point in even attempting for careers."

She shrugged. "Besides, a 1 would put a target on anyone's back. That tribute is either purposefully manipulating their score or just the easiest kill in history."

"Exactly."

The two sat in Kaylor's living room. The sofas were extremely soft with plenty of room to recline. His parents wouldn't be home until late in the evening, so Kaylor had decided to use the opportunity to give Pell a tour of his home.

The walls were a soft shade of blue, and the windows exposed much of the living room. The screen hung from the wall across where the two sat, as the interviews with Caesar Flickermann had already begun.

"Now District 1 has produced some excellent victors, there's no doubt about it. Do you think you have what it takes to become one of those victors?" Caesar's smile flashed his unnaturally white teeth.

"Why don't you tell me?" The boy from 1 slipped off his collared shirt to the sound of a roaring and ecstatic crowd.

The career's long, dark brown hair ended just in line with his chin. His straight hair seemed to have a never-ending shine to it, making it look as if he'd just come out of the shower. In addition, he had too many abs to count, and his muscle tone seemed to possess a lethal efficiency.

"What an ass."

"He's probably got a cute one of those too," she admitted.

Kaylor impishly rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, he'll probably flash that at us too."

"He's not my type."

"Well you seem somewhat interested in me, so I know that good-looking guys can't be you're only type."

"You're cute when you act all self-deprecating," she said. She kissed him, pressing her whole body against him.

Immediately, his breathing became heavier. "Who says it's an act?"

The two melted into each other, and the broadcasted interviews seemed to evaporate. Yet after a few moments, Kaylor forced himself out of his reverie. "Alright, we promised not to miss Brodrin's interview."

She kissed him again. "We've got time."

"We can't take the chance."

Pell let out a playful groan as Kaylor leaned on her. His caution proved helpful, as Brodrin walked onto the stage only a few minutes after the two had gotten comfy again. He sat down without bothering to shake the host's hand. Caesar played it off the best he could. "Brodrin Locke. I thought we could talk a little about your training score," he said. "You're score is… well it's something." The crowd laughed in agreement.

Brodrin shrugged, looking quite bored.

"Was there an issue with your session? Did you get nervous?"

He shrugged again.

"I mean a 1 is unheard of in the games. What score were you hoping for before your session?"

He shrugged and the crowd murmured uneasily.

Caesar fidgeted in his chair. "Ah perhaps you meant to honor your district and obtain a score of 2?"

The crowd chuckled, but Brodrin just shrugged again. _This is painful to watch._

Luckily for everyone, the interview after Brodrin's brought back the bravado and bliss.

"What the hell is he doing? It's like he's allergic to the idea of grabbing sponsors!" Kaylor stood up.

Pell looked sadder than most when she wasn't smiling. She wasn't even frowning. Instead, she just looked to be concentrating on her thoughts, probably trying to figure out the reasons for Brodrin's behavior too.

"I'm sorry Pell," he mumbled. "Let's just watch the rest of the interviews. Brodrin knows what he's doing. He doesn't need us worrying about him."

She nodded, and the two watched the interviews in silence. Kaylor had been looking forward to the male tribute from 7.

"Eldan Teak. You volunteered," said Caesar. "What prompted you to take such action?"

The tribute had a warm smile and bright eyes. He spoke softly, so much so that Kaylor had to turn up the volume on the screen. "Our district has had a tough year. We've had a lot of accidents and disappearances in the past few months. The forests provide lumber, but they are still dangerous."

"Well I think I speak for everyone here in the Capitol when I say how grateful we are for your service. He looked to the audience, "Am I right folks?"

The crowd clapped and cheered.

"Thank you. Thank you all," he said shyly.

"But while I understand that every district, including us here, have all gone through tough times at one point or another, I still don't understand why you decided to volunteer."

"My sister always believed in helping the people around us. She believed in the good in me," he said.

Caesar looked as if he might shed a tear. "That's beautiful Eldan. Your sister must be so proud!" The crowd clapped and cheered. Caesar smiled and let out a jovial laugh. "Seems she's not the only one!"

"Thank you. I'll do my best," he said, staring at the floor.

"Oh we know you will."

After the interviews had finished, the two had lingered on the couch for a bit. Kaylor didn't want to get up. Being so close to her never seemed to get old. But he was also intensely terrified of what came next. He feared the thing they'd have to do once their feet hit the ground.

Eventually though, their feet did touch the ground. Soon enough, they found themselves in the hallway, headed towards an old friend's home.

"So how are we going to do this? Just ask his parents, hey so about your dead son…"

"With a bit more finesse than that." Pell walked in line with Kaylor through the dim-lit hall. "Maybe I should do the talking."

"I haven't seen them in years."

Pell tried to lighten the mood. "Same."

The joke didn't land for him. Too quickly, he found himself staring at a door that had been so familiar and unintimidating at one point. He didn't give himself a chance to dwell on the situation as he knocked.

After a moment, the door opened. "K-Kaylor?" A middle-aged man asked. He was shorter than both of his unexpected guests. He had a large nose and astonishingly bushy eyebrows.

"Mr. Brellenvo." Kaylor stood with an awkward formalness to him.

The man looked confused. "What can I help you with?"

"We were wondering if we could talk to you about Jarrett?"

Kaylor heard some footsteps from somewhere behind the partially ajar door. Then it swung wide open. Jarrett's mother stared with wild concentration. "Kaylor!" She grabbed the two by the hand, guiding them into the apartment.

The walls were covered in slips of paper of varying sizes. Tiny notes were scrawled all over them, while stacks of paper and folders covered much of the furniture. The apartment looked like it had been consumed by madness, and so did Jarrett's mother. She gave off a horrid stench. Her hair was intensely tangled, and she had large bags under her eyes. "Please sit. Sit."

Pell and Kaylor looked around for an open space, but all the furniture was covered by something.

"Honey, we have to make some room then," the man said.

"No, no, no. Don't move that!"

The three decided to stand. The man shifted in place, refusing to make eye contact with the two of them. _He's embarrassed by her_ , Kaylor thought.

Jarrett's father looked in Pell's direction. "I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?"

"Ayla. Ayla Fortap."

Kaylor explained before they left his apartment, what name to use. Ayla didn't interact with Jarrett much, so Pell was free to make up any backstory she wanted.

"You're a career I see," he observed. Pell had borrowed Kaylor's old uniform from when he was a career. The black collar still made him envious.

"Excellent. How did the Emulate go for you?"

"I registered a few kills. I would have preferred to last a bit longer obviously, but I'm looking forward to next year. I think once I get my counters down, I'll have a legitimate shot."

At first, Kaylor was shocked by her acting ability. _How? Wait… Brodrin. Makes sense, he must not have had much else to talk about._

"Good luck next year," the man replied.

Jarrett's mother seemed to have forgotten about her guests, as she flipped through stacks of paper, muttering to herself. Abruptly, she spun around towards the three of them. "You're a career." She grabbed Pell by the hand and led her towards a corner of the living room.

Jarrett's father acted quickly. He silently signaled Kaylor to follow him. The two entered into Jarrett's old room where nothing had changed since the last time Kaylor had been in it, a lifetime ago. Posters of past District 2 victors hung from the walls: Selvand Lesput, Braven Akerrard and many others.

The desk was in the same corner as it had always been. Even the bed looked like it had been slept in recently.

"What are you doing here Kaylor?" he whispered. His eyes oozed out fear.

"I want to know about Jarrett. I'm the one who found his body. I want to find his killer."

"You're the one who found him?" He sat down on the bed. "What was he like?"

 _Ambervin never told him about me._ "What do you mean?"

"Did he seem scared? Did he look like he was in a lot of pain when he went?"

"His face was blank. I-I don't think he suffered."

Jarrett's father cringed and tears began sliding down his cheeks.

"Sir, I know this is hard. But I want to help. Was there anything odd happening with Jarrett before the Emulate? Did he talk about anyone?"

"You don't understand."

Kaylor made sure to keep his voice low. "Understand what?"

"Jarrett wasn't murdered," he mumbled. "He killed himself." The tears fell from his eyes with soft whimpers.

For a few seconds, Kaylor forgot to breath. "What? No. That's not possible. He had a sword through his body. He—"

"He threw himself into the Cornucopia with the blade pointing at him. Lead Director Ambervin told me. She offered to show me the videotape, but I declined. I didn't want the last thing I saw of him to be that." The tears kept flowing. "He killed himself because he lost the Emulate."

"Why? Why would he do that?" He tried to keep his voice to a whisper. "When we were both careers, we'd always make jokes about how we knew we'd never actually win."

"It's my fault. About four months ago, I lost my job. I angered some people. We couldn't afford to stay in the towers for long if I didn't figure something out quick. I'd likely have to work in the mines or quarries, maybe his mother too. I tried to keep it from Jarrett and his mother for as long as I could. But eventually, I had to just tell them. We were going to be kicked out of the towers before long. I didn't have any hope left. Then Jarrett explained how well training was going. He had always talked himself down before, but he explained how he was improving fast. I think he really did believe that he could win it. If he became a victor, we would've move into the Victors' Village. We could have everything."

"But then he lost." Kaylor remembered Jarrett's scream as Brodrin struck him down.

"I had begun asking him everyday about training. He knew I was putting all my hopes on him. I had no choice. Everyday he spoke about how he was getting better. I believed that he could do it. I needed to."

Kaylor listened to their breathing. He stared at the miniature replicas of cornucopias from years past, resting on his desk. He thought back to the times when the two of them would devise strategies about where to go and how to get the best weapons. Though they never admitted it, the two just used them as an excuse to role-play their dreams with small toys in place of tributes.

"Jarrett cared about you two. That's why he tried so hard."

"We put too much pressure on him. Now he's dead." Mr. Brellenvo hung his head.

"I really thought someone had killed him."

"Someone did. I did. But you mustn't tell anyone. Lead Director Ambervin promised to keep us in the towers if we went along with the story of his sickness. My wife doesn't know, only I do."

"Why doesn't she know? That's why she has all those papers and notes; she's trying to find some fake murderer. She looks like she hasn't slept in weeks."

"She barely sleeps. But she eats. At first, she wouldn't. She just would lay in Jarrett's bed here, all day. I didn't have the heart to tell her how he really died. So I just said that they found him in the training hall. Eventually, she started watching people from our window, recording their movements. When they left the building, how often. She became obsessed, believing that someone had murdered him. It's not healthy. I know that. But it's keeping her going. Time will help heal the wound."

"Not when you're ignoring it like this. How will she ever move on when she never finds her son's phantom murderer?"

"You cannot tell her," he said weakly. "Please."

Before Kaylor could say anything, Jarrett's mother opened the bedroom door. "What are you doing in Jarrett's room?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Sorry honey. I was just reminiscing with Kaylor. It's been so long since we've seen him."

"Pell's given me some new suspects. Several students stopped eating with Jarrett at lunch a few days before. This is big."

Kaylor followed Jarrett's father out of the bedroom. The woman mumbled to herself as she wrote onto a new sheet of paper. Pell stared at her with eyes a shade of sadness that Kaylor hadn't ever seen.

She suddenly leapt up from her writing, "Ayla. Thank you so much for your help. I need to keep working."

Kaylor exchanged a look with Jarrett's father. "Please," he mouthed.

"It's getting late Ayla."

The walk down the hall felt labored and slow as Kaylor walked Pell back home. The night hid their faces as he told her everything that he'd learned in Jarrett's room. She listened, silent until he had finished.

"I didn't even tell her anything. She asked me a question, but then she just answered it herself." The two had made it to her door. "Are you going to be okay?"

He nodded sullenly.

She kissed him gently, cupping his face with her hands. Then she wrapped her arms around him. After a long time, she slowly tried to release him, but Kaylor kept holding on. So she retightened her embrace around him. The tears pooled in his eyes, and he couldn't make himself let go.


	18. Chapter 18 - Echoes

**Chapter 18 - Echoes**

Brodrin rose up towards the sky; perfect white clouds punctuating the blue everything above. Soon enough he found himself staring out into an open courtyard, upon his pedestal. The 24 tributes spun their heads wildly as they tried to take in their surroundings. Dull-grey houses lined the paved streets on both sides, surrounding the visibly terrified teenagers.

The countdown had begun as Brodrin inspected the Cornucopia. _You've got to be kidding me._ This year's wasn't one of Brodrin's favorites. The ring-like structure was one story high with a single narrow doorway. Only one person would be able to fit through the door at a time. From the entrance, two tunnels sprouted out in opposite directions, eventually conjoining together to form a donut-shaped building.

Just outside of the entrance, there were a few packs and bags of supplies scattered about. However, Brodrin had watched enough of the games to know that, most likely, none of them contained any weapons.

The countdown had reached 5 seconds. He stared into the dark, obscure abyss that made up the mouth of the Cornucopia. But getting there was the only way he'd stay alive. The countdown dropped to 1.

Suddenly his legs throttled forward as if out of instinct. He heard an explosion several pedestals away from him, but he kept running. The other tributes fell out of his peripheral vision as they fell behind. But with only a few strides left, red-blonde hair flashed in front of Brodrin's eyes.

Briell blazed through the door without slowing up. She went left. _What the hell?_ He followed close behind and took a right. Brodrin could barely see his own hand in front of his face as he sprinted through the curved tunnel. There were small holes where light tried to seep through, but he still couldn't perceive much. Then he found himself face-to-face with her. They both halted for a moment, trying to guess what the other might do. The tunnels soon began to echo with the screams and cries of the other tributes, and light spilled in from an open doorway on his left.

Brodrin held his hands out toward the door, bidding her to go first. But she took a step back, glaring at him with suspicion. He rolled his eyes and sprung through the door. He squinted and held a hand on his eyebrows as he put distance between himself and the doorway. The courtyard was an open field, covered with weapon racks and closed cases, with the tunneled Cornucopia surrounding him, wrapping around the grassy ground.

The career scanned the courtyard. Two identical short swords hung on one of the weapon racks, not more than an arms-length away. Soon enough, tributes began to poor into the open space, with some already bloodied. Brodrin grabbed his blades and backed himself into a wall. _Now it begins._

Blood covered much of the equipment and grass. The boy from 8 had his hands around another's neck, strangling the life from him. He didn't even seem to notice the spear that had pierced through his leg. The career from 1 decapitated one girl as she tried to make her escape back through the tunnels with a knife and backpack in hand.

It was not hard to spot Gavin. He'd obtained a war hammer, which he swung deftly at any that dared to get close to him or the two young girls that Brodrin had seen him talking to for most of the training sessions. They looked terrified, but they also seemed to know exactly what to do. They stayed behind their large guardian, rummaging through bags of supplies until they found one that satisfied them.

Suddenly, a girl lunged at Brodrin with a spear. _From District 9. She's 17._ He slapped her spear thrust aside with little effort. When she moved to strike again, he slashed at her thigh. Her scream made him grit his teeth, but he refused to show any visible distress.

She dropped to the floor as the open wound gushed red, and he quickly backed away to more open space. Then the girl from 10 rushed over to try and take the wounded tribute's spear. When the two began to struggle over it, the girl from 10 raised a knife and ended the struggle with a single plunge.

One of Gavin's strikes landed on the tribute from 5's shoulder. His whole arm went limp with the sound of a loud, _crunch._ The wounded fighter writhed on the ground in agony, but Gavin made no attempt to finish him off. He simply kept moving with the two girls, refusing to give anyone an opening to attack them. Soon enough, the three of them had escaped through the only exit.

The careers looked to finally be forming up, and none of them had gone down yet.

 _I need to get out of here, now. This courtyard is way too small to take them all on at once._ So he darted along the edge of the mayhem, staying glued to the wall. Others swung their weapons at him as he sped past, but most did so out of defensive desperation rather than full-on aggression.

Soon enough he made it to the doorway that he'd used to enter the area. Before heading back into the darkness, he turned to get one last look at the scene behind him. Pools of blood formed where the other kids lay, hiding any trace of green that the grass once possessed. The girl from 12 had pressed another up against a wall, stabbing wildly into his stomach. The screams and pleas to stop did nothing to curtail the onslaught.

 _Briell must have left already. Good. Where's the other one?_

Before he could fully scan the area for him, the career from 1 spotted him. "There he is!" he shouted, pointing at him with a sword.

Brodrin understood his cue, and he melted back into the darkness. He sprinted through the tunnels as the echoes of the dying faded behind him. When he arrived back out into the open, he looked down every street and alleyway within sight. _Where are they? All I need is a direction._

He jetted into one of the nearby houses, just across the street from the Cornucopia, closing the door behind him as quietly and quickly as possible.

He hid behind the wall, poking an eye around the corner of a window to see what the pursuing careers would do. The four of them emerged from the tunnels with blood dripping from their weapons. The career from 1 seemed to be leading them, as he looked around frantically. "Where the hell did that piss-ant run off to?"

"Look." The boy from 4 pointed directly at Brodrin. "It's the only one with the door closed."

 _You idiot,_ he mocked himself.

Their leader smacked him on the arm in approval. "That's why I decided not to kill you back there," he laughed.

The career pack jogged towards him. Brodrin stepped back with his blades at his sides. He stared at the door like a cat before it pounces.

The door exploded open.

"The career with the lowest score in history huh." He strutted forward. "You got some stones for trying that one, I'll give you that."

Two more from his pack trickled in behind him, flanking him on either side. Without any signal, the three took a step to pounce in unison. Then, as if by their movement, the girl from 4 screamed. She'd stayed just a few steps behind, likely all part of the strategy to not let anyone sneak up behind them. _Only one person who could sneak up on another career like that._

Niah sprinted into the open street, turning her back to the Cornucopia. She held a bloodied rapier in her left hand, and she was slightly favoring her right leg. Brodrin spotted the cut on her left calf. Luckily for her, it didn't look deep. The three careers swiveled their heads back and forth between the two before they slowly backed up and out of the house. Brodrin moved forward with lethal patience, stepping over the body of the girl from 4.

"Last chance darling," the career from 1 said. He began to wriggle his arms as if loosening up before a jog. "We'd still love to have you with us. It'd be nice to have replacement."

Niah responded with a stern, concentrated look.

"Defiant till the end, huh."

Brodrin charged straight at the nearest threat. He caught the boy from 4 off-guard, immediately putting him on the defensive. His strikes swung in from all angles as his opponent struggled to keep up.

Meanwhile, Niah hadn't hesitated for even a moment. The instant Brodrin attacked the pack, she engaged with the other two, harassing them with her speed.

Brodrin knew that his adversary wouldn't last long. He was barely keeping up as it was. The two of them had separated from the others, creating a gap between the two separate fights. After a few more blows, he spotted his opening. One of Brodrin's strikes caused the fighter to step back, unbalanced. He responded with a sharp kick to his knee, which brought him to the ground. But before he could finish him off, the girl from 1 closed the gap between them and flung herself at him with her shortsword. This gave the other career time to get up. Just like that, Brodrin found himself on the defensive against the two of them.

Their strikes were well-timed and accurate. To top it off, their swings were hard, and they seemed to have all the stamina in the world. With the girl on his right and the boy on his left, Brodrin couldn't use both blades on any one target for a second.

As the three of them moved towards the Cornucopia, some of the bags and backpacks that littered the ground came into arms length. Brodrin countered an overzealous lunge from the boy's javelin, pushing the fighter back only a step. But that was enough time. He immediately kicked up a backpack that lay by his feet, and it flew into the girl's face, causing her to instinctively lift her arms up to block it. Brodrin then slashed at her exposed midsection, with his blade landing underneath her arm. She yelled in agony as she fell to the floor.

The boy from 4 began to back away slowly. Brodrin lifted his dual blades and charged. Out of desperation, the career flung his javelin at Brodrin, which nearly caught him off guard. But he deflected it soundly, and in a blink, his blade had gone in one side of his opponent and out the other.

Then another scream echoed across the open street. Brodrin looked over to see the career from 1 flailing his right arm. His hand lay just a few feet away.

He scrambled over to his detached limb, but only for a moment. He quickly realized that his lost appendage would no longer do him any good. "Please! I'm not a threat to you anymore." He winced through the pain. "Please don't do this!"

Brodrin moved to Niah's side. She was breathing heavily, they both were. But Niah stared at the wounded tribute with cold intent.

He tried to appeal to Brodrin next. "I'm sorry for going after you. Don't kill me, please! I'm begging you. I can be helpful to you. You know I can."

"You want me to do it?" he looked to Niah.

She shook her head. Her thin blade slid through his chest, just under his throat. Blood bubbled up and out of his mouth, and soon enough he was dead.

Then the arena was quiet, for the first time since it had started. The two stood still for a long time, unmoving. They looked around, as if searching for something.

Brodrin looked to where the body of the career from 1 should have been. "The girl from 1 got away," he said.

"I saw you cut her."

"I thought it was lethal, but apparently not."

"We'll see. Give it a day." Niah began sifting through the bags that hadn't been taken by the other tributes. She fully emptied one bag, and then began to sift through the others as she placed her choice items in the one. She grabbed a thermos and some rope before moving on to the next. "You going to stick around here?"

"For a bit."

"I'm going to keep moving. You can have the water," she spoke without bothering to look at him once. "The packs out here won't have any, but the ones inside the Cornucopia should have some."

"Would have been smarter to let me fight them alone," he said. "Then you could have tried to finish me off once I'd been tired out by the 4 of them."

Niah stood up with her pack that was now bulging with various items. With a slight limp, she walked through the door and into the tunnels of the Cornucopia. Brodrin scoffed. _Why'd she help me?_

Within a few minutes she came trotting back out. She walked past without even looking at him.

Brodrin thought about saying something cruel, but he held back.

As she hobbled off, her leg still bleeding a bit, the cannons began to go off.


	19. Chapter 19 - Execution

**Chapter 19 - Execution**

The classroom was dimly lit. The shades on the windows had been closed shut with most of the light coming from the illuminated desks. Guide Shevan paced through the aisles of students, making sure that everyone remained attentive.

Each student sat still, intently watching the identical scene that played out on each desk. It was a moment from the 58th Hunger Games.

A 16-year-old crumpled on his knees. Blood smeared his face as he clutched his left arm. "Please don't," he whimpered, "please."

Another boy, about the same age, stood in front of him. He drove his spear into the pleading victim with controlled ferocity. His face remained blank, and his hands were steady.

The other fell on his back, without a scream or an audible final breath. Kaylor stared at the dead boy's green, bloodshot eyes. Close-ups like these were not uncommon when a tribute died in the games. They added emotional weight and drama to the spectacle.

"Now who can tell me what this tribute did correctly with the execution?" asked Shevan.

Several hands went up and the guide pointed. "He didn't engage the tribute in a dialogue."

"Precisely," the guide said. "He made no attempt to validate his actions to the tribute or elongate the process. Instead, he dispassionately performed the execution. What else?" He pointed to another raised hand.

"His kill was efficient."

"Very good. Efficient kills are crucial. When you execute a tribute, any unnecessary pain in the death may come across as cruel and sadistic to potential sponsors. What else?"

No one spoke until the guide nodded or pointed towards a raised hand.

"He didn't hesitate."

"He did not hesitate." Shevan continued to stroll around the classroom. "What are the dangers of hesitation?"

"You convey low confidence and self-doubt to sponsors and the tribute."

The guide nodded.

"You offer the tribute a chance to attack."

Another nod.

"You increase the chance of not following through on the act."

"Excellent," he said dryly. "With all of these, you increase the risk of danger for yourself. A tribute that sees doubt may be more likely to find the courage to attempt to disarm you, to fight back. A tribute that escapes, or is let go, is a direct threat to your life. Tributes will beg, throw insults, bargain, cry, and sometimes even seem indifferent to the prospect of death. But when it comes down to it, they will kill you or anyone else in order to survive."

Kaylor hadn't lifted his eyes up from the desk. Instead, he'd paused the screen on the image of the boy's lifeless face. The hollow eyes stared back at him. The blood on his face reflected off the sunlight with an eerie, auburn hue. His eyes were puffy and large circles rested underneath them.

The last few minutes of class dragged on with the image still in front of him. When the bell finally rang, he powered down his desk and sprung towards the door. He swerved through the noisy hallway until he reached a door with the words 'Head Trainer' written on it.

He had barely opened the door before he spoke. "I want to leave the training program. I don't want to be in the classes. I can't help you with the training anymore, the design for next year's Cornucopia, any of it."

Allexin looked up from his desk with a furrowed brow. "Hello to you too."

"I'm out. All of it."

The head trainer put a hand to his chin, inspecting him. "Why don't you sit down and at least explain it to me."

Kaylor took the seat across Allexin's desk. His head hung to the floor.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to be that pathetic 'fake' career."

"If you're going to lie, at least put some effort into it."

Kaylor lifted his head and looked at the windowless walls that surrounded him. He wasn't very popular among the faculty and staff of the academy, which directly influenced his office location.

"You don't have to tell me," Allexin said, "but I don't think you'll regret it if you do."

Kaylor stared at a small plant that rested on the desk. It was dark green with no signs of withering. "Whenever someone dies in the games. No one really sees them for a few months. I thought it was just part of the process. I thought it's how everyone deals with it in a healthy way."

"Have you changed your thoughts on it?"

"That depends. Does anyone make them hide away?"

He readjusted himself in his chair. "I'm still confused as to what your point is here."

 _He's not going to answer my question._ "Those people in those games. When they die, it breaks people. I mean it really breaks people." He looked at Allexin. The head trainer had a fixated look to him, as if Kaylor was a puzzle, just a moment away from being solved. "The games leave so many people dead. To me, now dying looks easy. But those broken people, fixing them looks impossible."

"What do you mean, broken?" he asked.

Kaylor shrugged. "Does it matter?" He got up and turned towards the door, an officially retired career. The water welled up in his eyes, but he fought them back enough so they did not fall.


	20. Chapter 20 - Elixir

**Chapter 20 – Elixir**

Brodrin sat at the large table, which was covered in ornately decorated plateware and foods of the highest quality.

Since he'd parted ways with Niah, he'd been exploring the arena for the past day. The career had gone through dozens of the cement houses. They all looked the same on the outside, artificially worn down by time. But the inside of every single one was a stark contrast. The interiors looked nothing short of elegant with comfortable furniture and copious amounts of food.

But Brodrin hadn't touched any of it yet. He'd already finished the small bits that had been left in the Cornucopia, but the gamemakers had placed noticeably less edible supplies this year. _It's not a coincidence. They want us to eat this food. But they wouldn't make it so easy. Food's always been one of the best ways to control the tributes. Why would they limit their control with this?_

There had been too many games to count where the gamemakers had placed food and other resources in specific areas, forcing the tributes to converge and fight one another. For years, Brodrin had learned to get inside the heads of the gamemakers for moments like this.

His two swords rested alongside his chair as he lost himself in deliberation. _There's no water here._ He'd spotted a large fountain in the middle of one of the paved crossroads, but such an easy and inviting source of water seemed suspicious to him, so he had decided to avoid it for now.

 _This food can't be poisonous. Most tributes barely got away with any food or water. Several have already probably eaten some of it. Half the remaining tributes dying from poison won't make for good entertainment._ This thought gave him confidence.

Yet he remained lethargic, slouching in his chair and staring at the food in front of him. Another two hours went by before he finally took a large breath and plopped a few grapes in his mouth.

Then he waited. 15 minutes had gone by, and he'd felt nothing. _Have they just gotten lazy this year?_

Then as if in answer, his hands began to shake. At first it was subtle, but quickly enough, it intensified. He stood up so violently that his chair flew onto its back as he rose up.

 _The poison is working slowly. If the food was meant to kill, then it would have done so already. There has to be an antidote somewhere._

The career rushed into the bathroom. Bright blue towels hung from a towel rack on the wall and the mirror was laced in silver. He desperately scanned the area for any type of bottle, but all in vein. "Come on!" he screamed.

He searched the rest of the house and found nothing. Then he looked to the food. Perhaps some of the food was poisonous and some of it had the antidote. He had tried the fruit, so this time he tried some of the cold meat. When the shaking continued to increase, he tried some of the bread, but the other foods seemed to just be quickening the process. _Stupid idea,_ he chastised himself.

 _The antidote has to be readily available, since the food is. It has to be something that…_

The answer struck him like lighting. He threw his pack over his shoulder and grabbed his swords. The shaking had made it quite difficult to hold onto them, but he did his best. He sprinted down the stairs and down the smooth, grey road. His vision began to blur, but he could faintly make out his destination.

 _If this doesn't work, I'm done._

By the time he reached the fountain, the dim-grey buildings had begun to blur together. He knelt down by the pool of cool liquid and plunged his head into the cold water. After a few seconds, he ripped his head out for air. His eyesight had immediately returned, and the shaking had stopped.

He rested on the fountain's granite surface, letting the sound of the flowing water keep him company. Before long, other tributes would probably show up, and for some reason, he just wasn't in the mood for killing today. So he got up, filled a canteen with the transparent elixir and made his way down the street.

* * *

Night began to creep among the deserted buildings as Brodrin picked his refuge for the night. He backtracked to find a house that he'd passed ten minutes ago. Each house had their doors ajar, so as to not make it too obvious as to which house he was resting in, Brodrin had closed the doors on dozens of houses along the way.

When he entered his temporary home, he immediately set to work. He rummaged through his pack for the string he'd grabbed back at the Cornucopia. Nearly as thin as a spider's web, he tied the black string to the door handle. After, he grabbed a plate from the dining room and looped the string under and over a plate, tying it tight. Then he shut the door and rested the plate on the nearby nightstand.

But he didn't stop there. He also put glasses and small teacups on the floor, close to the windows, just in case anyone tried to sneak in that way.

When he'd finished with his homemade alarm system, he went upstairs towards one of the bedrooms. The bed was soft and the blankets were fluffy. He placed his swords on either side of him as he settled himself on the large bed.

It was a slightly chilly night, yet Brodrin still refused to sleep under the blankets, as they seemed to provide a sense of safety.

Then, he lifted his wrist, inspecting his bracelet. Luckily, it hadn't sustained any damage yet. He dragged two fingers along the wave-like decorations. Immediately, his wrist began to glow, first purple then blue. For some reason, it didn't seem to get old, watching the colors dance. Still, it didn't take long for his eyes to start to feel heavy. He touched his bracelet again to make the room go dark.

The poisoning had drained him of energy, so he fell off to sleep faster than he would have liked.

It felt like only seconds had passed, with a dream creeping into his head, before a _crack_ of a plate thrusted him back into the gloom of the real world. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he shot out of the bed with blades in hand. He darted downstairs as he heard the intruder scampering out of the house.

When the career made it outside, he saw a glimpse of the trespasser's back as the tribute went down an alleyway. _I'll definitely lose him unless I cut him off._ Brodrin sprinted in the same direction cutting through the adjacent alley. His target made plenty of noise as his feet slammed into the street.

He kept on the prey's heels, running down streets and alleys, always turning on the adjacent alley behind him. _One wrong turn is all I need. He thinks I'm following him directly._ Soon enough, the wrong turn came. The tribute cut through an alley on his left, prompting Brodrin to do the same, but he turned immediately instead of going down the same alley. The unsuspecting career cut left out of the alleyway, directly into Brodrin's path.

He barreled into the unsuspecting boy as the two went to ground. Brodrin recovered much quicker. He stood above the other boy, lifting his sword. The tribute looked up at him, his face covered by shadow. He made no noise, only his heavy breathing pierced through the dark, but even that sounded unnaturally calm.

Then the moonlight illuminated his face. He gently brought his sword down and said, "Eldan Teak."

The boy nodded.

"I don't feel like killing tonight," he said sounding annoyed. "Come with me."

He got to his feet slowly, unsure of what do next.

The career sighed impatiently. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have let you get up. Let's go."

With that, the two returned to the house that Brodrin had rigged up. On the way back, Eldan kept stealing looks at Brodrin's swords. When they reached the house, he tied a new plate to the door handle and cleaned up the shattered pieces of the old one. Eldan sat at the dining table, silent as a cat.

When he finished, he set himself directly across the table. Moonlight poured in from the window, allowing Brodrin to barely make out Eldan's dark green eyes. The awkward silence lingered for what felt like an hour.

Eldan was about average height. His shoulders and arms were quite lean and muscular. His wrists were oddly thin, but his hands were larger than average.

"Want something to eat?"

"That why you didn't kill me back there?" The boy mumbled terribly. "To use me to see if the food's safe to eat?"

"I don't need a food taster. I already know the food's poisoned."

"Then what's the point?" His voice had a delicate tone to it.

 _He doesn't know._ Brodrin pulled out his canteen, filled with the healing water from the fountain. "So you haven't eaten anything since we started then."

"All this food laying around seemed too good to be true. So I guess… I was right."

"Yeah, kind of," he said with a yawn. "But didn't you notice that not a single house has any water in it?"

The chair creaked as Eldan fidgeted in his seat.

"The food doesn't kill for at least an hour, and the water works immediately." He slid the canteen across the table. But Eldan continued to hesitate. "If you don't feel like eating, then I'll just take this back." He reached for the water.

Eldan then hastily grabbed some meat with one hand and berries with the other, taking few breaths between bites. He devoured everything like someone seeing food for the first time.

Brodrin left the water alone. When Eldan had finished eating and drinking, the two remained at the table. Brodrin leaned back in his chair and listened to the night's silence.

Eldan eventually ended the lull. "Why didn't you finish me off?"

"Still on that, are you? I didn't feel like killing you because it seemed slightly wasteful at the moment. So instead, you're going to help me."

"How?"

"I need to map out where all of the fountains are. We do that one job, and then we split. No complications."

"Couldn't you do that alone?"

"Are you suggesting I off you right here?"

That shut him up for a bit. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't understand why a career would choose to team up with someone like me, instead of another career."

"Well for starters, I helped kill a few of them. There are two others left." He bit into an apple. "Now it's my turn. I answered your question. Now it's time you answered some of mine."

His yawns had become more and more frequent. "Okay."

"Why'd you volunteer? And don't give me that same dull answer you gave Caesar."

Eldan began playing with one of the forks, spinning it on the smooth wood of the table. "My sister died a few years ago. She was the only one who would ever have missed me."

"What was her name?" he asked, his tone indifferent.

"I don't really like saying her name. It's tough for me. I know that's weird."

 _No it isn't,_ he thought. "I don't really care enough to pry."

Eldan kept his head down, with his face slightly pointed towards the floor. "She was the best part of me. She protected me, from everything. She was kind, but she could surprise you. One second she would seem as harmless as a baby rabbit, but mess with me, you'd see a different side to her." Faintly, Brodrin could see his contagious smile. People in the Capitol were probably drooling over this. "She was smart too. One day, while hauling timber, we found this massive pit in the forest, big enough for at least ten people to fit in. For the next few weeks, she had me help her make a net. When we finally got it done, we took it over to the pit and covered it with leaves and twigs. Sometimes, she'd put bait in the middle. That pit saved us more than once with the game we caught. It got us through some tough times. I would have never thought to use that big hole in the ground for anything. But my sister, she was always thinking about how to make things better."

"How'd she die?"

"She died because of me."

This peaked Brodrin's curiosity, "What happened?"

"If I wasn't who I was, she'd still be alive. I know I owe you, but that's all I'm gonna say about that."

"Fair enough. Anyway, I think we've had enough talk for one night. Feel free to use the bed."

"You sure?" Eldan's voice ringed with a gentle quality to it.

"Yeah. I'm staying up either way so do what you want. We'll head out at sunrise. First, we'll head back to the Cornucopia, grab you a weapon. Then we can map those fountains out."

Eldan nodded, and headed up the stairs, yawning again.

The career kept his swords on either side of his chair as he took a swig of the little bit of water that remained. He sat there, wide-awake, wondering what the sister's name was.


	21. Chapter 21 - Hidden Tombs

**Chapter 21 – Hidden Tombs**

Twice, Kaylor checked both ways down the hall before he slipped into Brodrin's vacant home. The shades on all the windows had been pulled down, with only slivers of sunshine coming through the crevices. _Brodrin definitely wasn't into putting a personal stamp on his living situation._ Every bit of bland furniture was in the same place it had been when Kaylor had been here the first time.

He took a large breath as he stared at the three rooms. Each one faced him defiantly, their doors barring entry.

He decided to begin with Brodrin's. The walls were barren, with nothing on his nightstand besides the alarm clock. The bed had been neatly made some time ago, and it looked like it hadn't been slept in for years.

Kaylor pressed down on it, but the bed had no give to it. "Jeez Brodrin, your personality wasn't enough? You had to make your bed out of rock too," he mumbled to himself.

He checked under the bed, which didn't even have the smallest piece of lint hidden beneath. Besides his uniforms, the closet had two pairs of shoes, four shirts, three pairs of pants, three pairs of shorts, and a jacket.

"Hold up on all the extravagance Brodrin."

Each article of clothing was dark grey, black, or the required uniform colors. Soon enough, he moved to the next room, just a few feet from Brodrin's.

The door swung smoothly as Kaylor opened it. His mind began to race as to what he would find. He wondered, _a dead body? A creepy shrine?_

The room was much bigger than Brodrin's. The dresser was massive, likely meant for two, as was the bed. The walls were white, but with floral decorations painted just under the ceiling, almost like a crown that encircled the entire room. Opposite of the dresser, one wall of the room was practically all windows, staring out at District 2. Here, for some reason, the shades were not pulled down.

Kaylor resumed his investigation. The bed was neatly made. The clothes were that of a man's and a woman's. The room seemed to have all the normal characteristics of a parents' bedroom. In fact, it reminded him of the bedroom that his mom and dad shared. But there was one oddity that did not escape him. _Where are the pictures? It made sense that Brodrin wouldn't have any. But what are the chances that his parents were that cold and unemotional too?_

He searched around for about a half hour more, checking each dresser drawer and potential hiding spot that he could think of. But still, he had nothing.

At that point, he had a strong urge to end his search. Ever since he'd entered Brodrin's apartment, he felt like a child who'd stolen a toy from a friend, and each room he entered only made that guilt swell.

 _You've already gotten this far, just pop your head in the last room and then get the hell out,_ he thought to himself.

The door looked just like the other two, with pale and artificial-looking wood. He rushed to open the door so he could get it over with.

When he saw what was in the room, he froze. The door continued to slowly swing out, revealing everything. The room's soft sea-green walls surrounded him in a sense of unsettling serenity. The desk had nothing but a picture of Brodrin on it. He must have been only 6 or 7. The young version of him smiled brightly back at Kaylor, showing some missing teeth.

The sheets on the bed had been thrown to one side, as if someone had recently woken up for the day. But almost everything was covered in dust, including the picture of little Brodrin.

All of these things bothered Kaylor. They brought up more questions than he could count. But nothing unsettled him more than the blood, or at least, what looked very much like incredibly old blood marks. There was some on the desk, darkening a portion of its surface. It had dripped down onto the white carpet as well. _This is the only place in the whole apartment with carpet._

Kaylor knelt down next to the second stain. It had morphed into the darkest shade of red. Neither stain was massive, but still, they terrified Kaylor. Besides the blood, the rooms looked just as harmonious as the rest.

"Brodrin, what the hell happened?"

He then forced himself to search through the drawers and the closet, but all he found were clothes and some handmade bracelets. They were crafted with smooth leather and small bits of what looked like silver. _Was this your sister, Brodrin? The clothes tell me it was likely a girl's room. The bracelets are too well crafted to be that of a child's. She had to be at least a teenager._

Kaylor knew that he'd found all that he could in the apartment. He was hoping for a few answers, but all he'd found was more disturbing questions. Before he left he grabbed the dust-covered picture of Brodrin and closed the door.


	22. Chapter 22 - Monster

**Chapter 22 - Monster**

"So you've got everything?" Brodrin asked.

Eldan nodded, keeping his eyes towards the ground. The career had outfitted him with everything that the 17-year-old would need to survive. He had a pack filled with three canteens of water from the fountains, a hand-drawn copy of the map that Eldan had drafted over the last few days, along with a compass, string to create the same alarms that Brodrin had been using, a first-aid kit, and a few small knives.

"Aright then," Brodrin said, "try not to die."

Eldan threw the backpack over his shoulder with a soft grunt. "Why are you really doing this?"

He stared down a vacant street; dead squares of grey lined each side. For a moment, he thought about making up a lie for his temporary ally. Yet, he decided against it.

"You don't seem like a monster. That's better than most people who enter these games can say."

"You don't think I'm a monster?" he asked, almost shocked.

"Shitty people don't usually volunteer for a game that will almost certainly kill them," he twirled his blade around playfully, looking bored. "You're probably no saint, but I can't always be picky."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. There's a chance that next time we meet, I may have to kill you," he said. "Start hating me, it'll make things easier."

Eldan nodded and he picked up his weapons. The two companions had gone back and plundered the Cornucopia not just for supplies. The tribute from 7 had taken his pick of the litter, opting to go with dual, single-bladed axes. They were small, each about the length of his arm, from elbow to fingertip.

By the way he carried himself, Brodrin could tell that he was no career. Earlier he had observed, _he simply doesn't have that natural ferocity for killing._ But the tribute had a strong, athletic build to him. Being from the district that was known for timber production, he knew that axes felt all too familiar to him. He even held the weapons with a sort of calm deftness.

"Goodbye Brodrin." His shaggy brown hair hovered over his eyes, obscuring them when he hung his head down.

"Hopefully we never have to see each other again," he replied, refusing to look back as they walked in opposite directions.

The career had no idea where Eldan intended to go. He decided it was better for both of them if he didn't know. But Brodrin knew exactly what his next move was. Only one other tribute had died during his time with Eldan. It had terrified him when he first heard the sound, but it turned out to be a 14-year-old girl from 11.

* * *

Brodrin walked slowly, silently down the lonesome road. His eyes constantly darted down each alleyway, though his blades rested below his waist, not in the ready position. He knew this would piss off Scruff, who was definitely watching. But more importantly, he knew it added to his air of confidence.

Then he heard a voice. It sounded burdened, as if the owner was trying to heave something very heavy.

Brodrin lifted his blades slightly, stalking towards the noise. It became louder and louder as he approached the corner of one of the uniform buildings.

He poked one eye around the corner quickly and then pulled back behind the safety of the wall.

It was a male tribute, knelt over something in the middle of the street. His shoulders were shaking ferociously.

Brodrin approached cautiously, keeping his distance from the oddly frail-looking individual, circling around to see his face.

It only took a few steps for him to see what the tribute was obscuring. One slumped atop the other, two little girls, covered in blood. The blonde one lay beneath, with a bloodied rock in her hand. The other had a short knife doused in red as well.

Brodrin understood immediately. He didn't see this coming, but still, it didn't surprise him. The girls understood that there was only room for one victor, no matter what. Eventually Gavin wouldn't be able to protect both of them.

"I was only gone for a few minutes. I was just going to get some water for us," he gritted through tears. "They were both so thirsty."

Beside him laid a loaf of bread and a canteen. Brodrin wasn't focused on the supplies though. He kept his eye on the heavy war hammer sprawled out next to the canteen.

The staff appeared at least four feet long, connected to a round hammerhead. A spike on the opposite end of the head helped to balance the weapon.

"I'm sorry Gavin," he said.

"Are you?" He gritted his teeth. "Do you actually feel anything for them? Can you?"

Brodrin lifted his blades a little bit higher. Gavin didn't notice.

"Gavin I never—"

Tears and spit flew up from his face. "Stop! This is what you train for! You train for years for this!" He rose slowly with his war hammer in hand. "They were innocent."

"They killed each other Gavin. I had nothing to do with this."

"They were fighting for my protection," he squeezed his weapon. "Protection they needed from people like you. Protection from everything in this stupid game!"

Brodrin couldn't urge himself to back up. His whole body began to tingle. "What do you want me to do? I don't want to fight you," he said. _There are people who think he's better than me from that score he got,_ he reminded himself.

"They were the good ones," Gavin pointed to the two small bodies.

Brodrin disagreed, but even he didn't have the cruelty to say it to Gavin, especially not now.

He tightened his grip on his blades, stiffening his shoulders. He took a large breath, thinking hard about what his next words would be. He would get to decide what happened next.

"How about you go this way," he pointed down one street with his sword. Then pointing to the opposite one he said, "I'll go this way."

"I'm not leaving them," he said, squeezing his hammer so hard that Brodrin could hear it.

"That's fine," he said. "I'll just leave you alone."

"What were their names?" he asked.

"Gavin look—"

"What were their names?" he asked, louder this time. "Tell me. Then we'll go our separate ways. But first, tell me their names."

Brodrin stared into Gavin's tear-stricken eyes. _I can't be faulted for him instigating this fight. I tried to avoid it._

"What were their names!" he screamed.

Brodrin lowered his head in shame.

Gavin charged at him without an ounce of restraint, his first strike narrowly missing Brodrin's temple. It sent a jolt of adrenaline through him as he leapt backwards, ungracefully landing on one knee. But he immediately regained his composure.

Brodrin had never seen someone swing a war hammer that fast before. Not even the strongest of the academy brutes were that gifted. He was tall, strong, and surprisingly quick.

Still, Gavin gave Brodrin no time to breath, forcing him on his back foot with his vicious strikes.

The towering fighter didn't swing wildly though. His attacks were clean and efficient, and soon Brodrin found himself only a foot from one of the buildings, his back inching ever closer to it.

Then a low swing came at his legs, forcing Brodrin to hop to avoid it. Gavin followed his swing with a shoulder check that sent the mid-air fighter flying into the wall. The back of his head slammed into it hard, but yet again, Brodrin had no time to regroup.

Gavin refused to ease up with his onslaught of attacks. Brodrin's blades had no chance of directly blocking his opponent's swings, but redirecting them was possible. The clash of sword and hammer forced Gavin's strikes into space beside Brodrin, and bits of concrete exploded off with every smash.

Suddenly he countered, with Gavin's arms extended from his last swing, he brought one of his swords down to try and take his hand off, but Gavin's deceptive speed caused issues yet again. He yanked his hands away letting go of his hammer, as Brodrin's blade harmlessly clanked with it.

Gavin then brought his fist into Brodrin's face. The blow caught him off balance, and it sent him hurtling sideways. Gavin followed up with a kick to his ribs, and then Brodrin swung his blade up at Gavin in order to create some distance between them. He leapt backward, giving the downed fighter enough time to get back up.

In no time at all, Brodrin had taken quite a beating, but now he had the advantage. His opponent was unarmed, his hammer still lying close to Brodrin on the ground.

But to his surprise, the lack of a weapon didn't quell Gavin's tenacity. He came at him again, and Brodrin swung at his torso. Gavin hopped back slightly, letting the blade swing in front of him before coming in close again. His head butt nearly knocked Brodrin unconscious, and made him drop his blades to protect his face.

After a barrage of swings from Gavin, Brodrin brought his knee into Gavin's stomach, and then followed with a strong uppercut to his chin. It sent Gavin backwards, and Brodrin tried to capitalize on the opportunity but his opponent recovered almost instantly. He brought a hard kick into his oncoming attacker, and Brodrin went soaring backwards through the glassless window of the building behind him.

He landed on the soft carpet, which didn't seem to cushion the fall very much. The blow had knocked the air out of him, as he struggled to his feet. He had no weapons, and he was outmatched in a fistfight. The career knew things weren't looking good for him at all. _Gavin has not disappointed,_ he thought.

Then his adversary strode through the door with hammer in hand. Out of breath, Brodrin forced himself to sprint up the stairs, his pursuer close behind.

The upstairs was just as glamorous as the last building he'd been in. Brodrin sprinted across the dining room, grabbing a steak knife before he came into Gavin's view again. He slid it through the back waistband of his pants.

The tall tribute had barreled up the stairs, locking eyes with him only a moment after he had concealed the knife. Brodrin knew he had stayed out of Gavin's sight just long enough for him to grab and hide his smaller weapon without his opponent's knowledge. Finally, he had a card to play.

Brodrin looked at the table, then at Gavin, as if he'd just noticed the available weapons near him. He then grabbed one of the other nearby knives, holding it with flashy expertise.

Gavin paused for only a moment. His purposeful stare hadn't lost any of its potency. He charged yet again, and Brodrin reacted, throwing his knife at him. Despite being in such close proximity, Gavin's reaction time was too good. He deflected the knife with the staff of his hammer, not letting the throw slow him down.

This time Brodrin was a bit more ready. He had quickly taken in his surroundings; the dining room was rather spacious, despite the large table. However, the ceiling wasn't exceptionally tall.

Gavin swung his hammer with a powerful side strike, followed by swing after swing. Throwing his weapon caused the desired effect. His attacker had even less inhibition, now that he assumed Brodrin defenseless. He had almost entirely stopped using his entire arsenal of punches and kicks, instead going for the killing blow.

 _Just a few more attacks,_ he thought desperately dodging the savage onslaught.

Brodrin took a knee to his ribcage and a punch to the temple as he struggled to stay standing and moving. He couldn't last much longer.

Then the hammer slammed into the ceiling. Gavin had brought it upwards in an attempt to finish him off with a downward strike. The unexpected clash caused Gavin to look up.

Brodrin took his chance, pulling out the knife and driving it into Gavin's chest with unparalleled speed. The knife went in and out of Gavin's body twice before he was able to react. He blocked the third strike, swinging a fist at Brodrin.

The nimble fighter ducked, placing two more quick stabs in his side, going for his kidney.

Gavin grunted. He grabbed Brodrin by the collar of his shirt and flung him across the room. He crashed into the table, sending plates and silverware in every direction. But the bruised career shot back up, pulling a fork from his thigh.

Gavin had one arm tucked in close to his chest. His breathing became increasingly shallow. He staggered backwards, leaning on the windowsill behind him.

Brodrin stalked slowly around the table, refusing to take his eyes off the wounded fighter.

Several feet separated the two. The hammer, lodged into the pristinely carved wood, still hung from the ceiling.

Coughing up a bit of blood, he looked so tired, as if he was ready for a week-long nap. His head began to rest on the windowsill too, but he kept staring at Brodrin with cold distaste.

The career took one long look at him, and then made his way down the stairs slowly. He picked up his swords and started to make his way down the street with a heavy limp. He didn't look back, even when he heard Gavin's body hit the street. At least three cannons would go off tonight. Brodrin kept walking, carrying his shame with him.


	23. Chapter 23 - Foreboding

**Chapter 23 – Foreboding**

The moonlight blanketed everything that Kaylor laid his eyes upon. The academy stared back at him, quiet and still, with only the rushing water of the far-off canals echoing across the grassy fields.

He'd spread out a silk-smooth blanket on a large hill that overlooked the academy, with the residential towers plenty ways off in the distance. Picking his spot with slight paranoia, he had set himself on the far side of the hill so that no one coming from the towers could see him, yet he could peak out at the academy.

Resting on the blanket, his pack nearly overflowed with an assortment of cheeses, a few types of crackers and bread, as well as some fruit. For most of the food, he'd taken only small portions that would go unnoticed. But for the huge amount of cheese, he'd have to make an excuse. Before leaving, he'd taken each block and cut them into finely thin slices. He thought that would make them go better with the bread and crackers.

He began laying everything out as neatly as possible. The cheeses all sat at one corner, the fruit rested on the adjacent corner, and the bread found itself in the middle. _I should have brought some candles. That would make everything look fancier. Why didn't I bring them?_

"What do we have here?" a whisper broke through the air.

He turned to look behind him. Pell grinned as she combed her fingers through her chestnut hair.

"Oh this. I just grabbed some stuff from the kitchen. I thought we might get hungry."

"You just took a few things on your way out?" she asked sheepishly.

He nodded. "Mhm."

She chuckled to herself and started plopping layers of cheese into her mouth. "Thanks for the cheese," she said softly into his ear, and then she kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled. "It's not all for you."

"You're saying that if you weren't expecting me, you'd still have brought this much cheese?" she teased.

"I've just been craving the stuff since this morning." He glanced over at the school, thinking he'd heard something, but he saw no movement.

"Yeah definitely. What kind of cheese is that?" She pointed to an off-white one with flecks of something riddled throughout.

He scoffed. "Easy, that's one of my favorite types. It's quite divine."

"What's it called?"

Kaylor could tell from her crooked smile that she was enjoying this immensely. "You know, it's Gorgra—Gorgrano Cheese."

"Nice try." She pressed her lips against his as they both laughed.

It didn't take them long to eat everything that Kaylor had packed. With their backs resting on the hill's side, the two stared up at the calm sky.

"If you could only say one word for the rest of your life, which would it be?" She tossed grapes in the air and caught them in her mouth on the way down. Kaylor tried to imitate, but he kept missing.

"I thought you'd never ask," he replied. "I'd go for like 'great,' I think."

"What? Why?" she laughed.

"Because what's the most common question you get in a day? It's, 'How are you?' So this way, I can at least answer the most basic question ever."

"But if you're always just saying 'great,' everyone will hate you for being the super happy one all the time."

"True. Also, there'd be so many instances where saying it would be wildly inappropriate."

"Yeah someone just pours their heart out about how sad they are, and you're just going to be able to say, 'great.' So good to talk to."

He chuckled. "What about you?"

"Easy. It'd be 'ass.'"

"What?" He had to cover his mouth to make sure his laughter didn't grow too loud.

"When someone is being an ass to me, I want to be able to tell them that."

"I've never heard you call anyone an 'ass' before."

"I never have. But there may be a day when someone deserves to be called just that. If it ever comes, I want to make sure I'm ready. It's a little dream of mine."

"Ambitious," he said with a smirk.

"I don't mean to brag but yeah." She rested her head on his chest, and soon she fell asleep. His smile felt like the ones he used to get when he was young, when tiny things such as dessert or getting to play with a friend would make him decide that the world was amazing. He felt desired. He felt wanted more so than ever before. He felt like she trusted him.

He stared back over at the academy, looking for signs of life, but again there was nothing. After a few fleeting hours, Pell woke.

"Morning Sunshine," she smiled.

"I haven't been completely honest with you," he said.

She didn't bother lifting her head up. "Yeah?"

"I—I had ulterior motives for asking you here tonight."

"Oh." Her eyes widened, and she sat up. "I have to admit I've been thinking about it too. You think we're ready? First time under the night sky, it's as good as any."

His face reddened more than it ever had. "I—I wanted to see if the academy had any peacekeepers who came by at night. There have always been rumors about what goes on here during the night, but I had to find out for myself."

"Wow, I misread that one." She buried her face into her hands as she giggled.

"I've thought about it too," he said quickly. "I just didn't want to ever make you feel pressured."

"I trust you. But I'm a little embarrassed right now, so let's talk about the other thing," she said. "Now, why did you want to know about the academy's late-night security?"

Kaylor fought the urge to linger on the subject. _She's thought about it too?_ "Jarrett. It doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

 _She's thought about it too._ "Ambervin knew what happened to him."

"It makes sense that she would, right? I mean she probably has everyone reporting to her."

"Maybe that's it," he looked over at the lifeless structure.

She stroked his cheek. "There's something else."

"I quit the career program last week."

"What? But you love it!"

"I was a joke. I mean I don't actually train or anything."

"If by joke, you mean the coolest, most amazing guy I've ever met, then yeah you're a joke. Any other definition just doesn't fly."

He fought a grin.

"Does this have to do with Jarrett?" she asked.

He took a breath. "They never really show you what happens to the people who know that person. They never really let us see the pain." He glimpsed at the infinite lights above. "I've seen so many tributes die in the arena over the years. I've studied the film like it was a textbook. All the killing, the begging, the sadness never bothered me. I'd seen those same people who cried and begged, kill someone seconds later. The games did a pretty good job of making me believe that no one was innocent. No one. But now when I see those kids dying, I see the fathers collapsing to the floor. I see mothers going silent with pain. I see brothers and sisters laying in bed with their eyes open, just replaying the last moments over and over in their heads. I see…"

"Jarrett's mom."

"Yeah I see her too."

"She doesn't deserve what's happening to her. It hurts to think about it."

Kaylor nodded. "She was always nice to me. I could tell she thought a little too highly of us. In her mind, me and Jarrett could do no wrong. We were perfect kids."

"Weren't you?"

"One time I gave Jarrett an answer to a question for a quiz I'd already taken."

She widened her eyes. "I've always wanted to date a bad boy. Tell me more," she said with a crooked smile.

"Fine, maybe we weren't the bad boys of the school."

She theatrically gasped, "Really?"

"Not like Brodrin."

"He's an act," she said with a waved hand. "In the end, he just tries to hide that he cares."

"Maybe. What do you know about his parents?"

"He never talked about them with me."

"Did you ever bring it up? Ask him about them?"

"When I first met him, yeah. I asked why he could visit me at night and drop off food without his parents noticing. He told me they were _gone_."

"That's it?"

"The way he said it, I never heard so much anger and pain in someone's voice before. He didn't want to go into detail so I didn't ask anything more." She narrowed her eyes. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing." He looked away. "I might have broken into his apartment, but the door wasn't even locked. So 'break in' is a bit of a strong term."

"Not okay."

"I'm sorry."

"What did you find?" she said with a guilty look of curiosity.

"Something happened to them Pell. Something bad. His sister—"

"Sister?"

"Yeah I think he has a sister."

"There's so much we don't know."

He nodded. Then her arms enveloped him as if she intended to shield him from something.


	24. Chapter 24 - Alliance

**Chapter 24 - Alliance**

Brodrin stared at something quite unfamiliar through the mirror before him. It had two eyes, which it used to stare menacingly back at him. Its face showed signs of bruising, though the swelling and purplish color had mostly faded.

The thing before him looked just like him. The brown skin, the smooth hair, the green eyes; everything looked the same. But this new monster had no scar on his face. This new monster had only just begun his inevitable rampage.

Finally, Brodrin tore his gaze from the mirror. He lumbered out of the bathroom and made his way back to the chair that he'd placed by one of the windows. For the past week, the career hadn't moved at all. He'd been silent in the same room, waiting and watching.

About 30 yards off, one of the fountains played its role, taunting tributes to come over for a drink. Yet, the tranquil sound of the splashing water had no influence on Brodrin. He'd stocked up with buckets of water ahead of time. Before setting up camp in the house of his choosing, he'd filled every glass he could get his hands on. They littered the tables and much of the floor. Besides getting stabbed to death or decapitated, staying hydrated was the most important thing.

A few more hours dragged by with the career scanning the area for the slightest hint of movement. No one had come by since he had started observing the fountain. It had surprised him that it had taken so long to spot another tribute, but he didn't mind. _Eventually they will come._

Then as if in answer, he spotted a tribute creeping along the edge of the street furthest from where Brodrin sat. She had a small backpack on, and she constantly looked back behind herself. When she made it to the center of the intersecting roads, she waited several minutes, eyeing every decrepit house and vacant street at least three times. _She's cautious. Smart. She understands that these fountains are meant to be kill zones._

Then with swift abruptness, she rummaged through her pack until she pulled out a metal canteen. She dipped it in the pool. A continuous jet of water shot up from the center of the fountain, splashing in all directions.

After a moment, she screwed the top back on and looked down each street. _Which way are you going?_ He leaned forward.

Slowly, she began walking towards the street that Brodrin was on. Her eyes bounced left and right at the windows on both floors. The career stood up and tiptoed down the stairs. He hid behind the wall adjacent to the open doorway. While doing so, he slipped his hand into his bag and pulled out some white linen. Portions of it were dyed red. He then rolled up his left pant leg and wrapped the bandage around his bare, unscathed calf.

He finished before she even made it halfway towards him. Then he listened to the sounds of her footsteps getting closer and closer. Eventually, they began to fade. He waited still until he could only hear the faintest noise of her, and then he slid out of the house. He caught a glimpse of her backpack as she made her way down one of the alleyways. He moved as quickly as possible to catch up, keeping his steps light. He peered around the corner. She'd already put a substantial distance between the two of them, but now she had stopped to take a drink. She took no more than a sip before she started moving again. Brodrin began to count.

He kept his distance, always making sure to only be a turn-of-a-corner away from being able to see her. She kept moving down the alleys, checking her back constantly.

 _It shouldn't be long now,_ he thought to himself. Sure enough, he was right. At exactly 15 minutes, her hands began to shake. At first it was subtle, but it quickly began to increase. She quickly took a large gulp from her canteen, but the shaking persisted.

Soon she started to run down the alleys, which made following her easier. She was making so much noise and not looking back that Brodrin could follow her with less discretion.

With a half an hour since her first sip, she began bumping into corners and walls that she must have thought were further away. But she kept moving.

 _She's headed to a different fountain. It's her only chance._

Another half hour soon past, and the girl began to groan. She started to clutch the sides of her body, just under her ribs. He continued to follow, keeping his presence unknown to her.

Two hours since the first sip, she could barely walk. She moved through the alley, stumbling constantly and slamming into the walls. When she finally made it to the end of the alley, she fell onto the street. She crawled for a bit, her hand outstretched, but she didn't have the energy to get back up. The girl grunted, dragging herself along the cement.

Brodrin closed the gap between them, strolling down the alley towards her, his blades in each hand. She hardly seemed to notice him as she continued to crawl. When he looked up, he realized what she had been moving towards. The fountain was about 15 yards off, but for her it must have appeared like a mile away. This one wasn't the same one that he'd found her at, but you wouldn't have been able to tell that from the look of it.

Her breathing was incredibly heavy with terrible wheezing.

 _2 hours and 15 minutes_ , he logged in his memory.

Then he walked up to the girl, rolling her over onto her back. She stared up at the sky, struggling to take in more air.

"Good to see you again Windsow. You'd know what would have come in handy for a time like this? An alliance with me."

She responded with nothing more than a dark glare. Her eyes didn't look desperate. They didn't look defeated or sad. They seemed to only hold anger. Then she rolled back onto her stomach and began to crawl once again. Inch by inch, she pulled herself with raw-red elbows.

He rolled his eyes. "Because that's going to work." He dropped his blades and crouched in front of her. She looked up at him, her breathing sounded as if she was trying to inhale through a straw. He took his canteen out from his pack and flipped her over onto her back again. With her head in his lap, he slowly began to pour the water into her mouth.

At first, the liquid simply dribbled between her lips and down her cheeks. Yet after a few moments, she began to drink. She took a gasp of air without the faintest wheeze. Then her hands gained enough strength to clutch the canteen. Not before long, the whole canteen was empty.

Briell took in another gust of air, and her eyes closed. Her breathing had returned to a normal rhythm as she slept.

Brodrin picked her up and carried her into one of the houses down the street, about a block away from the fountain. He laid her on the bed and tucked the covers in around her. He sighed and fell into a chair resting in the corner.

* * *

Briell shot up from the bed, her eyes darting back and forth as she took in her surroundings. The sun had started to lose its power to illuminate, and the shadows of the buildings covered more and more of the street.

"Morning Sunshine," he said with zero enthusiasm. Saying the phrase reminded him of Pell.

"Why am I not dead?" She glanced at the two short swords leaning by the wall, several feet away from Brodrin.

He leaned back on his chair. "You got closer to the fountain than I thought you would. How are you feeling? Are there any lingering effects?"

"You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you kill me?" she said.

"I didn't feel like it." He stared out the window at the fading sunlight. "There's plenty of water and food in the next room when you're ready."

"What is this? What are you doing?"

"You don't have to eat if you don't want to, but I'm starving." He got up to leave the room, not so much as glancing at his weapons. _If I leave them available to her, it'll build trust quicker._

The career sat down at the long, rectangular table and began to wolf down everything in sight. He had yet to eat anything today. The dishes seemed to differ depending on which block he was on. This one seemed to have a lot of fish.

After what felt like at least 10 minutes, Briell slowly walked in. He felt her gaze as she analyzed him.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"How about you take a seat and eat with me? Then I'll explain."

"Counter offer. How about you tell me what the hell you're playing at, or I come across that table and rip your head off."

"You one of those people who get really cranky when they're hungry?"

She grabbed the plate of food in front of him and hurled it at the wall behind him.

He looked annoyed. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"Why… didn't… you… kill… me?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"I wanted to give you my offer again."

"What, an alliance? How could you possibly think I would ever trust you?"

"Well for starters, I saved your life."

"So now what, I owe you?"

"Absolutely."

"No."

"I'm not asking for you to become my best friend, just an alliance. It probably wouldn't last for more than a few weeks."

"You're one of the worst people I've ever personally met in my entire life, and I'm not exaggerating."

He shrugged in agreement.

She clenched her fists. "How many have you killed so far?"

"A few. The other careers didn't go down easily, but they weren't as tough as I thought they'd be this year."

"You're lying. Why would you kill the other careers so early? You always group up."

"You saw their faces in the sky. Who else do you think could have done it?"

She looked to be deep in thought.

"Admittedly, I had help from the other career from my district, but I did most of the work."

"Modesty big in 2?"

"No, but resourcefulness is, which is why I can help you get what you want."

"You have no idea what I want."

"You're looking for that boy you saved during training. The kid from 8."

Her eyes widened for the flash of a second, before regaining composure. "Nice guess, but no. I fully intend to go solo for these games."

He grabbed a new plate and started on some perfectly cooked salmon, topped with lemon and some kind of tiny green herbs that he didn't recognize. "Was that the plan? Gavin protected the girls while you went looking for the other kid? It's noble of you."

Again, her eyes gave her away, informing Brodrin that he was right. "You want me to help you find him, and then you can off us both? That'd be convenient for you."

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have let you suffocate in that street. You think I'd craft an elaborate scheme just to find some 12-year-old that I could kill even if I was in a coma?"

"Then why are you so set on this alliance asshole?"

He stood up and lifted his left pant leg up, revealing the bandages wrapped around his calf. Most of the white linen was still stained red. "There are still two careers out there, along with plenty of others who could probably beat me in this state. You could easily take me out right here if you want."

"Good idea."

"It'd be the strategic choice." He sat back down in his chair. "I need your help. Let me tag along with you until we find the kid. By then, my wound should be healed. Then we can part ways."

No one spoke for a very long time. "I need to think." She closed the bedroom door behind her.

An hour went by, as the door remained shut. Brodrin poked at the few bits of food that he hadn't finished. A part of him expected her to storm out of the room any second, his sword in her hand. _She wouldn't do that,_ he reminded himself. _She's one of the good ones. The worst she'd do is leave me here. But even that's not easy for her._

Finally, the door opened slowly. She took a seat across the table from him and began to plop a bit of everything on the plate in front of her. "If we find him before you're fully healed, you're still gone."

"Deal," he said as he took his own canteen and poured some water into a wine glass for her.

She pointed her dining knife at him, "You try anything…"

"You'll rip my head off, yeah got it."

Abruptly, Briell began staring at the food and the glass of water that Brodrin had just poured. "I almost forgot the reason why I'm sitting here in front of you in the first place. That stupid water doesn't work anymore."

"The fountain you were at was poisoned. I saw the girl from 10 drop food in it."

"And you just watched. So then when anyone came around it'd be an easy kill."

"Yep," he said, disinterested.

She stood up with her plate of food and grabbed the glass of water that Brodrin had been drinking out of. Then, without a word, she walked back into her room and closed the door.


	25. Chapter 25 - Injustice

**Chapter 25 - Injustice**

Kaylor strolled through the empty hall of the academy, his head darting in every direction. The ceilings were plain and spotless. The white walls were barren and boring.

He looked for any object that might look similar to a camera, or at least could hold one, but his search was in vain. He'd been through these halls more times than he could count. Since he could remember, the halls had just become a background in his uninspiring school life. The blank halls had become like the sky, always looming, but seldom did he ever pay much attention to them.

Now, it was different. With a deep breath, Kaylor eyed the lead director's door just a few steps away. When he approached, he knocked with two awkward taps.

"What are you doing?"

Kaylor whirled around. "What?"

"What are you doing?" Aillan Stonebree gave him a stoic gaze. His face looked unnaturally stiff, as if a twitch would have required a ridiculous amount of effort.

"I'm walking through the halls," he said with casual confusion. "What about you?"

"I'm following you."

Kaylor took a step back after that comment. The words weren't as unnerving as much as his nonchalant tone was. "Um, am I just that interesting?"

"No."

Kaylor nodded once, as if reluctantly agreeing with him.

"To clarify, I feel that everyone has a right to their privacy so long as it doesn't infringe upon the well-being of District 2's citizens or the governing laws."

 _That clarifies nothing._ "That's… nice of you," he said uncertainly.

"I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable. I started following you because you seemed to be looking for something. I noticed you took the same route back and forth."

"I dropped one of my pens somewhere in the hall. I was just looking for it."

Now that he wasn't a career anymore, his lie was plausible. Only careers got to use the special digitally enhanced desks.

"I see," he said.

"What did you think I was looking for?"

"I have no idea. I don't intend to come across as accusatory."

Kaylor chuckled uneasily, "No problem. Well anyways, you saved me from a major pummeling the other week, letting you follow me is the least I can do."

He nodded. "I'll leave you alone now."

"Hold up. I never got to thank you for that. I tried but you're not exactly the easiest guy to find."

"I know."

"Why is that?"

"I conduct most of my learning with my father. There are only a few subjects that he isn't qualified to teach."

"Oh," he replied, "your dad must be pretty smart then."

"He's very knowledgeable, yes." Aillan turned his body, intending to walk the other way down the hall.

"Why'd you help me?" The question made Aillan turn back towards him. "Why didn't you just let me take the beating?"

"Injustice only exists so long as the rest of us do nothing about it."

"You sound like my brother. He was a peacekeeper. He always believed in helping others. He thought that was the best way."

"Your brother was a good peacekeeper. His record was flawless."

"Wait. You knew my brother?"

He shook his head. "Just through the peacekeeper records database. I've studied countless files. I use them to prepare myself for when I join active duty. It's incredibly helpful to be able to learn from the success and failure of past peacekeepers."

"Thanks."

"Like I said earlier, I'm just preparing for my future responsibilities. Unprovoked assault against a fellow citizen is against the law."

"Not just for that. Thanks for saying what you said about my brother. He would have liked you." He smiled. "He was a bit more… animated than you, so he might not have been your favorite person in the world. But he would have liked you. There are few people in the world who think like you two do. Don't lose that."

The astonished look on his face reminded Kaylor that they were practically the same age. When the hard eyes and the clenched jaw faded, he could see the uncertain teenager hidden beneath.

"I hope you find your pen Kaylor." Aillan marched down the hall, his head locked forward and his arms hung like stone columns at his sides.


	26. Chapter 26 - Deathbed

**Chapter 26 - Deathbed**

"I don't see a good reason why we need to talk," Briell said. She looked around at the cloned army of buildings without any real purpose.

"I don't feel like being bored this whole time." Brodrin said. "It wouldn't kill you to tell me who the girl at the Reaping was. Best friend?"

"You don't get to talk about her," she said.

"I should be able to ask basic questions about you anyway."

"That wasn't the deal. Maybe if you hadn't made me carry the pack, I'd have answered a few."

Brodrin rolled his eyes. The two had been walking down the grey streets for a few hours with little reward. _All to find a brat that can't be trusted_ , he thought. The boy would cause some complications if they actually managed to find him, so Brodrin had already ignored several clues left behind by other tributes. Instead, he'd purposefully tried to send them in a direction that no other tributes had gone. But that was proving ineffective, as Briell was quite perceptive.

She'd found the markers that one tribute was using that started at one of the wells. The little breadcrumb trail was likely intended to help whoever made it to find their way back to the well as quickly as possible. The marks were tiny. Most would never have noticed them. But Briell noticed the modest gashes that rested in the street-facing corner of about every 5 structures. As a result, now they were on the trail of someone. Brodrin just hoped it wasn't the boy.

"The odds of your name getting reaped had to be absurdly low."

"Maybe I just deserved it," she said quietly. Her head looked to be on a swivel, constantly scanning all the buildings for potential ambushers.

"You think because your family lived better than the others, you deserved to be in here," he said, almost interested. He walked with a slight limp. Quite quickly, it had become quite a nuisance, but the fake wound on his leg would likely cause suspicion if he didn't keep up the act for a few more days.

Then she caught herself, as if remembering that everyone she knew was listening to every word. "My father ran 6 better than anyone I ever."

"I'm sure he did," he said purposefully sounding bored again.

"You can walk away whenever you'd like. You're the needy one who just insisted on making this dysfunctional alliance."

Brodrin twirled his blades around idly. "I'm not needy."

She chuckled, "Did you not get enough attention as a kid or…"

Brodrin shot a warning glance, but Briell looked unfazed.

The two continued their walk in silence for almost ten minutes before Briell spoke up. "Who gave you bracelet?"

Brodrin look down at his wrist. "Family heirloom."

"They must be proud," she said without sounding too cold.

He shrugged, hoping she wouldn't press the issue.

"District 2 tend to have pretty demanding parents?"

"Most of the parents in 2 offer conditional love at least. Win the games and you may even get a hug."

Briell let out a loud laugh, halting to a stop. Her laugh was smooth and accompanied with a graceful tune.

"Never heard you laugh before," he said.

A guilt-ridden look washed over her face. "You never should have heard it." She started following the trail again, quickening her pace.

"You think because you're in this place, having even the slightest drop of joy makes you a sadist or something."

"Let's drop it," she mumbled, resuming her brisk pace again.

"It doesn't make you a monster. Whenever you can steal a little bit of that bliss, don't hesitate. Life's pretty stingy about giving those moments out." He limped past her, resuming the tracking.

"Showing your sensitive side to me already?"

"Shut up."

Brodrin spotted, for only a moment, the smile that crept up on her lips. Quickly, she forced it away, hardly noticing that he was observing her.

* * *

The sunlight awoke Brodrin with an odd sense of serenity. He hadn't slept that well in a very long time. When he awoke, Briell was leaning on the wall, staring out the window at nothing in particular.

She took a large bite out of a juicy, red apple. "You know, you don't look as much like a serial killer when you sleep."

"That's odd, because all my dreams are usually just about murder," he said dryly.

He threw off his quite comfortable blanket, taking his eyes off of Briell. An apple bounced off his head with a thud. He responded almost immediately, grabbing the apple and cocking his arm back as if to throw it back at her.

She responded with a purposefully fake smile. "What? I thought you'd want some breakfast," she said with an exaggeratedly high voice.

Brodrin ripped through a chunk of the fruit with his teeth, and made his way into the living room. It was becoming harder and harder to find any differences between the various interiors. It didn't take him long to finish his apple. After, he went over to the dining table and helped himself to a fruit bowl.

He strolled back into the bedroom. "How long has the sun been up?" he asked, popping a few bright, juicy grapes into his mouth.

She didn't pull her gaze away from the window. "Less than an hour. We need to get moving."

Both ate quickly—following their breakfast with a large gulp of water—they were back on the trail in no time. Brodrin had made a slight effort to grab the bag before Briell, hoping that she would assume that he'd done it without much thought.

With each marker they found, Brodrin felt more and more uneasy. They were getting close.

An hour passed without any excitement. "Whichever tribute is making these marks, they're going at a snail's pace. Also, they're zigzagging all over the place," he said.

Briell took a swig of water from her canteen. "Think it's a trap?" she asked.

"No. But something doesn't add up."

She held the canteen out in Brodrin's direction without looking at him. "I agree."

He took a small sip.

Briell suddenly bent down next to one of the dull structures. He knelt down next to her to see what she was inspecting. It wasn't a lot of blood, just a small splatter that had painted the building.

The two stood back up silently. Brodrin slid off the pack, laying it gently on the smooth pavement, his blades in hand. They both moved in a slightly crouched position, like jaguars prepared to pounce.

The door opened without the slightest creek. Brodrin's skin prickled with an intensity he didn't recognize. Tiny droplets of blood covered half of the bright blue-colored carpet.

Squashed berries, torn chunks of chicken and pork, and broken plates overlaid the floor. There seemed to be few items that didn't have at least a drop of blood on them. Small splats of the red liquid were dispersed all around, with no large pools of it to be found anywhere.

A straightforward trail of blood led up the stairs. Brodrin nodded his head towards the top of the stairs and the two moved silently up them. Upstairs was a similar picture in some ways. The blue and yellow carpet hosted one large stain of blood, as if someone had taken a bottle of red wine and poured it in a single spot. For the most part, the rest of the room appeared untouched. The furniture wasn't overturned and the room was only red in one specific area.

A trail of blood, much heavier than the last, led to the bedroom. The door was closed. Without taking her eyes off the door, Briell knelt down and touched the red pool. She lifted her finger to show him. It was still wet. This had all happened rather recently. Brodrin nodded to show that he understood. _No point in going in quiet anymore_ , he thought. His foot smashed into the white wooden door, making a hard cracking sound.

It took him a moment to comprehend what he was looking at, but when he did, his eyes widened and his swords fell to the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

* * *

Briell rushed through the door, cloth dinner napkins in hand. She must have rushed downstairs and grabbed some from the table. Brodrin's hands felt like pudding, and his feet like cement. He continued to stare, completely unmoving.

The walls of the room were decorated in yellow swirls with a light blue background. The bed had a handcrafted wooden frame that raised the mattress significantly above the floor.

Niah lay atop the bed covers, trembling slightly. The covers looked to be white at one point, but now they were a deep red. Briell lightly dabbed at Niah's bloodied face, but Niah didn't look at her once. Instead, she kept staring at him.

Finally, Brodrin forced himself over to the bedside. He went to grab her hand, but he stopped himself at the last second when he noticed she was missing three of her fingers.

"This hand too," Briell said softly.

Brodrin then sat next to her on the bed. His added weight made a squishing noise, as the blankets and her clothes had drunk their fill and couldn't hold any more blood. He felt the liquid run down his thighs and onto the floor.

He couldn't help but let out a defeated groan, and he rested a hand on top of her blood-soaked head, as it seemed to be one of the few places that didn't have any open wounds. Deep gashes covered her entire body, including one above her left eye, painting half her face red. Brodrin couldn't tell if she'd lost the eye or she was keeping it closed on account of the blood.

"Didn't think I'd see your scar-less face again," she mumbled through her busted lip.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, trying his best to caress her without touching any of the numerous cuts.

"Does it matter?" She stared up at the ceiling. Then she gritted her teeth. "I didn't stop fighting. I wasn't weak about it."

Briell wiped some more of the blood away from her face. She'd been as intrusive as a shadow the whole time, grabbing anything that looked like it could hold liquid and softly dabbing Niah's body with it. It proved fruitless though. Her wounds continued to weep red streams that simply replaced anything that Briell removed. Still, she quietly kept at it.

Niah's trembling started to increase in intensity. "I should have stayed with you that night. When you asked me to stay."

His hands were completely covered in blood. He tried to straighten her hair, pulling wet strands from her face. _What can I do?_

She winced as she tried to adjust her position slightly. "You need to be careful. One of the reasons I'm in this bed is because I underestimated him. I thought Eldan was going to be easy. Clean kill."

Brodrin's eyes widened. "Eldan? He…He did this?" he asked with complete astonishment.

"He's a defensive fighter. He blocked or dodged everything I threw at him. Honestly he may even be better than you when it comes to defensive play."

"Don't worry about him," he said.

Niah looked at Briell for the first time. "Hey 6."

Briell stopped wiping the blood, looking a bit taken aback that Niah would even acknowledge her. "Yes?"

"Grab one of those swords over there," she said weakly.

Briell did so. Her body was also covered in red. She held Brodrin's blade in her hand, unsure what to do next.

Niah looked at Brodrin with her one open eye. "Take it."

He held out his hand and Briell placed it gently in his palm. He hid the blade by his side so that Niah couldn't see it. She was beginning to shiver even more. Brodrin tried to fake a sense of calm.

"Brodrin," her voice cracked. "I'm scared." Her tears melted in with the blood.

"I'm here Niah. It's going to be alright," he said as his tears soaked the infinitely damp sheets. He rested his face upon hers as best he could without touching the cuts.

Briell wiped her own tears away, getting blood on her face.

His voice trembled as he whispered so only she could hear, "I won't forget you." He could barely see. The water in his eyes welled up constantly even after so much had streaked down his face.

She tried to smile. Then she nodded at him.

Brodrin kissed her cheek, and with the taste of her blood on his lips he drove his blade through her heart.


	27. Chapter 27 - Family Tradition

**Chapter 27 – Family Tradition**

"Now that's a twist," said Uncle Vermane. "I'm surprised she had the energy left to crawl up into the bed."

"That's horrid," replied Mom. "She never deserved that sort of cruelty."

"In the games, things like this will happen. It's tasteless, but when you volunteer for the games, you know the risks," said Kaylor's father.

It was Mom and Dad's turn to host the entire family to watch the games. Last weekend had been Uncle Vermane's, and the week before that Kaylor's favorite cousin had held the honors.

The whole family, 17 in all, lounged on and around the two large couches in the living room. Mom had the honor of sitting in her favorite sofa chair, her eyes glued to the screen. Dad constantly darted from the kitchen back to the living room with different snacks each time. He took pride in his pre-dinner snacks. The man couldn't cook for the life of him, but when it came to trays of fruits, some vegetables, cheese, and crackers no one rivaled him.

"I highly advise trying to mix with the strawberries with any of these three cheeses," said Dad proudly. "Utterly fantastic."

The tray was bare before he had a chance to sit back down. Then, just like that, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

Without tearing his gaze from the screen, Mom yelled in the direction of the kitchen, "Honey, my roast is almost done. You're going to spoil everyone's appetites." Over the years, Kaylor's mother had become an expert at cooking with minimal oversight.

Kaylor had been seated between his Aunt Presill and his 9-year-old cousin Brinn. "I didn't know that there was so much blood in your body," he said casually.

The cameras had lingered on Niah's dead body and the blood-soaked bed on which she laid. Brodrin still sat beside her.

"What kind of mental impact will this have on Locke? Do you think this will affect his strategy?" asked Caeser Flickermann over the close-up footage of Niah's wounds.

The other commentator quickly replied, "I think this will. Obviously the two of them had a bit of an undefined romance before the games began. It's pretty apparent, Brodrin's looking for justice."

"I think many viewers will be joining him in that desire. Our correspondents are hot on the trail for the truth about Brodrin and Niah's relationship. Did their romance begin well before they even became tributes for their district? What reasons did they have for not sticking together after their breathtaking battle with the careers from 1 and 4?" The footage then cut back to Caesar and his partner in puffy chairs with a waist-high table between them. They spoke with jovial intent.

"Did you know her?" asked another one of Kaylor's aunts.

"No. We hardly spoke," Kaylor replied quickly. The less the conversation included him, the better.

"She was a hell of a fighter."

"I don't understand how that kid from 7 took her out."

"I've never seen someone with that good of defensive technique. He dodged and blocked everything she threw at him."

"I chose her," Mom muttered. She finally looked to everyone in the rest of the room, letting her somber eyes fall on her son. "I thought she'd win."

A few of Kaylor's uncles erupted in hoots and hollers.

"The big reveal!"

"Another one down! This is my year."

Since as long as Kaylor could remember, before the start of each Hunger Games, everyone got to choose one tribute whom they thought would win the games. Like every other family that he knew, the entire Valden family always rooted for the District 2 tributes, but that didn't always stop them from putting their bets on others to win. Everyone wrote the name down and kept it secret. When their chosen tributes had met their demise, they could reveal their choice.

Kaylor had obviously chosen Brodrin. But now it all felt wrong. _The Hunger Games didn't provide enough entertainment as it was for them, for me._ They had to add another game of betting and rooting for others to die, just so they could brag about their unparalleled foresight.

Kaylor stood up and patted his mother's shoulder. She rested her head on his hand for a moment, and then he left the room. He caught his father crafting another tray of delicacies. "Last tray, I promise," he grinned.

"It better be," he forced a smile, "otherwise Mom's going to ask for my help getting rid of your body. Niah was her pick."

"Want to know a secret?"

He nodded. "I've guessed your mother's choice every year for the past seven," he sighed playfully.

He chuckled, but only for a moment. "You ever feel bad? The way we bet on them like that."

His father looked up at him. "It's not the most considerate thing we do, that's for sure. What I try and do is remind myself just how insignificant I am in all this. Whether I choose to write a name down on that piece of paper or not, the games will still happen."

"Does that mean we shouldn't worry about changing anything, or should we be trying to change everything?"

Dad smiled, "I guess it depends if you'd end up changing things for the better."

Kaylor turned to go.

"Son."

He looked back.

"I know how much you wanted to be in those games since you knew how to say the word, 'cornucopia.' I'm sorry that dream never came true. But when I see all those kids dying in that arena, I'm grateful that I won't ever have to see you like that."

"You never know, maybe District 2 will produce a murdering psychopath in the next few years. Fingers crossed."

"You can't go getting yourself murdered after I opened up like that. It'd be just plain rude."

Kaylor smiled. "I'll see you back in there Dad. Love you."

"Love you too."


	28. Chapter 28 - Buried

**Chapter 28 - Buried**

Brodrin jabbed his swords through the air over and over again. Sweat dripped down from his forehead, and his shirt was soaked. With his feet in place he alternated between hands, thrusting one sword at a time through the small metal rings that hung in the air.

The career had constructed a makeshift training device. On the ceiling above, two knives, about shoulder width apart, were buried into the smooth wood. Tied to the handles of the knives, Brodrin used the same string that he had been for the plates as his door alarm. On the other end, hanging just below eyelevel, one metal ring had been attached to both ends of string. The rings were about the size of a teacup. He'd found these ones holding up a shower curtain for a shower that, like all the others, didn't work.

The blades pierced through the air time after time. They snuck through the open space of the rings, each time without touching the metal. Only a fraction of the blades went through the bands, but this was about precision, not power.

Brodrin imagined the rings as Eldan's eyes. He imagined the satisfying cries that would come ripping out of Eldan's mouth. As he poured more detail into his twisted fantasy, the jabs got faster.

"You're still at it?"

Brodrin hadn't even noticed her enter the house. His focus had blurred everything in his periphery.

"All the canteens are full. I didn't spot anyone on my way, or any signs that some of the others were through here recently," Briell said. "We should get going soon."

He continued to jab his swords through the rings. His feet remained planted firmly on the carpet that slowly began to accumulate beads of sweat.

Briell stood there for a long time without saying anything. She was behind him, so Brodrin couldn't know if she was looking at him the whole time or not. Eventually however, she spoke, "Did you love her?"

That made him stop. He slowly turned around to look at Briell. Her eyes, which met his gaze, held a look of vulnerability that he didn't expect.

"We both knew that we weren't star-crossed lovers, destined for some tragically romantic end," he said. "If it came down to it, she would have put a sword through me without any hesitation, just like I did."

She nodded, blatantly unconvinced.

"I know she didn't love me, and I didn't love her. But we understood each other. She didn't deserve to die that way. She deserved to die on her feet, not in a bed soaked in her own blood."

"The way I see it, it might have been better this way."

"How!" His anger began to bubble up to the surface.

"Do you think she would have preferred for the last person she saw to be the person she probably hated more than anyone else in this world? Or do you think she would have liked to have you there, holding her, one of the people who understood her?"

Brodrin snickered.

"It was infinitely harder on you. I get that. But in the end, I think she wouldn't have wanted to die on her feet because then she would have died alone."

He let out a condescending smirk. "I thought we careers were nothing like you. Thought you had more in common with a mockingjay or a piece of bread. Yet you seem to be empathizing with her without much trouble."

"I used to think you all weren't even human anymore. I would watch game after game where careers would put a sword through a kid's eye, strangle a wounded tribute that begged to just be left alone, kill their partner from the same district without blinking. But a few days ago, I saw two people in so much pain. Two people that cared—"

"You were right the first time. If you want to win the games, you can't hesitate, even for a second. When the time comes, I'll win this game my way," he said. "Don't pity us, Niah and I are just like the rest of them."

"You don't have to hide it."

"Hide what? All I have is anger. Niah was from my district, and she deserved to die with a weapon in her hand. Instead, her death was weak and pitiful." _I'm so sorry Niah_ , he thought to himself.

"You don't mean that. Stop trying to bury your pain."

"You know how many people I've killed? You know how many more people I will kill?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I am not someone who can be saved. I'm not someone looking to move on and become some better person."

Briell took a step towards him. As if in unison, Brodrin stepped back. Then it was as if she had just realized what she'd tried to do. She quickly walked over to the bags and started to check to make sure everything was accounted for. "We should get going. We've got a few hours of daylight left. It's going to take much longer to get over to that other well," she said. Soon enough, she had her pack over her shoulders, and she darted down the stairs.

Brodrin stood alone in silence for a time. The feeling, the moment, was all too familiar. With one smooth slice of his sword, the rings fell to the floor with a soft thud.


	29. Chapter 29 - Canals

**Chapter 29 - Canals**

Kaylor slid through the door as quickly as he could. Once inside, he took his time in turning the doorknob in an attempt to make the inevitable click of the door as quiet as possible.

"Careful, the mice might hear you." Pell stood leaning inside the doorframe of her room.

He pulled his hood down with a chuckle, nearly tackling her as he closed the gap. "I brought you something." He lifted up the pack of food that he'd smuggled from his home, all the while, taking very few breaths as he kissed her.

"You shouldn't have," she said, breaking off their kiss to look off at nowhere in particular.

"What's wrong?"

"What if your parents start noticing the lost food?"

"It wouldn't matter. I think they'd be relieved that I'm actually talking to someone," he chuckled. "Ever since Jarrett died, they've been even more worried about me. They thought I still spoke to him at school at least."

"Is that what we do? We _talk_?"

"Don't worry about me. It doesn't take a genius to explain away a little bit of food. They won't even notice."

"Sometimes I forget that the amount of food is relative."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Staying healthy and getting to eat? You're such an asshole," she said as she pressed her soft lips up against his tougher ones.

"I know these people here don't deserve it. None of them deserve to go hungry. I feel guilty for having it so easy for no reason other than I was born into a rich family."

"It doesn't matter whether they are hungry or fat," she said still holding onto her signature smile. "People aren't all that great usually. That's why I prefer to just grace you with my irresistible charm."

Kaylor laughed. He took a step back from her and laid the pack of fresh food on the kitchen counter. Today he wasn't able to grab much, but he did have enough for some cheese soup. "I only have you for a few hours, but that's enough time to make you something. I found a new recipe in one of my dad's cookbooks. It's got plenty of cheese so it's impossible for you not to love it." He gently removed a stainless steel pot from the cupboard. Kaylor had taken the liberty of slowly replacing all of the rusty, old kitchenware with brand new ones from his home. His parents had a few extra pots and pans that they forgot they'd even purchased.

"How do you feel about having sex?"

Kaylor dropped the pot, and it clashed atop the ancient stove with a violent uproar of _clings_ and _clangs_. Once the pot had settled on its own, Kaylor slowly turned to look at Pell.

She wore a wickedly mischievous smile on her face.

"That—that noise, I probably woke everyone up. I—"

"Is that a "no"? She continued to smile.

"No, I want to!" he said louder than he meant to. But he quickly calmed himself down. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I'm going to go into my room. Feel free to stop by if you feel like taking me up on my offer." She turned around and took off her shirt, showing Kaylor her smooth back, with a few freckles on the left side. She then closed her door without looking, but leaving it still slightly ajar.

Kaylor stood in the tiny kitchen with his own thoughts for what felt like an eternity. When he finally took a step towards her door, it took everything in him to keep his hand from shaking as he pushed the door open.

* * *

Kaylor looked out at the empty canals. It had been several hours since school had ended. Everyone had left for home by now. The crisscrossing streams made up no discernable pattern going nowhere in particular, yet they still somehow looked organized.

His mind kept replaying the night over and over again. When they'd taken each other, he felt safe. In the moment, he wasn't afraid that she'd judge him or lose interest. He found himself smiling every time he thought back about something she'd said or how she smiled.

"I heard you were looking for me," said a voice.

Yanked from his thoughts, he turned around to see the small woman looking up at him with a calming grin. He nodded.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with Jarrett." She gestured with a simple nod for him to walk with her.

Ambervin walked slower than most people would find comfortable, but Kaylor followed suit. "Something doesn't make sense to me."

"And what's that?"

"Mr. Brellenvo, he knew how Jarrett died. I was definitely the first one to find him, wasn't I?"

She nodded.

"Then that means there weren't any witnesses, which makes sense. He went to the training center at that time because he wanted to be alone. Then how did you know how he killed himself?"

"That's a good question," she said. "Do you have any theories?"

"Only one that makes sense." He sighed. "You watch us. The school must have hidden cameras and surveillance everywhere, like the games do. It's why you can run this school without meeting any of the students."

They crossed another one of the miniature bridges placed over one of the streams. "People show their true selves when they think no one else is watching."

"I can't be the first one to get suspicious."

"You're not. Others have tried to convince their friends. But it's hard to convince people of a threat that has yet to sting. Even the guides don't know that I have eyes and ears all over this school. It's meant as much for them as it is for you."

"Are you the only one who watches us?"

"The more people that hold your secrets, the more likely they are to get away from you."

 _She never actually answers any of my questions. It doesn't feel like she's doing it to be difficult. It's too natural for her._ "So you only step in for serious things."

"Is that a question or statement?"

"Would it matter?"

She chuckled. "I'm sorry. I know I can be quite evasive. It's a bad habit." Now they were in the center of the canals. Within the center, a square-shaped pool connected many of the streams. The water from the various streams flowed in every direction, but they all eventually ended in the same spot, the center pool. It wasn't much deeper than the rectangular waterways that cut all along the marble floor, but the depth was noticeable.

"I want to show you something." She put a hand in the breast pocket of her pale blue blouse.

Kaylor nervously eyed the tiny remote with a single button.

She looked out at the last bit of dawn's dying light as the sun disappeared behind the far-off mountains. She nodded to herself, clicking the button. The soft rushing waters began to shimmer with a green light. The green ripples reflected off the marble slowly turning into a blue luminescent glow.

Kaylor's heart began to beat faster, and he felt his forehead warming up as if he'd decided to put his face right up in front of an open flame. He looked at Ambervin.

She looked at him as she recognized that they both understood what the lights meant.

"The sequence isn't a coincidence," he muttered.

"It was a beautiful gift."

"Why do this?"

"For the same reason you gave Brodrin that bracelet. Now, I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Eventually you'll understand," she said softly.

Then with the lights still on, she led him back into District 2 Academy.


	30. Chapter 30 - Priorities

**Chapter 30 - Priorities**

A thick bludgeoning sound jolted Brodrin awake. It was still dark out. Besides the noise, the night was still as always. He got up from his bed and headed towards the dining room.

Briell stared out the window. "That's the third one in the last 10 minutes," she said.

"I missed the other two? What are they?"

"They were far off at first. But they're getting closer," her arms folded in deliberation. "First one came from the north, but I'm pretty sure the next once came from the east."

"I'll be right back." Brodrin went back into his room. He went over to the windowsill and perched inside it. From there he vaulted himself up and out of the window, comfortably latching onto the roof. Then he pulled himself up onto it.

As he stood on the roof, he saw what the source of the noises was. Three separate pillars of smoke, seemingly all in opposite directions of one another, had erupted from the sea of buildings.

 _The gamemakers must feel that things have gotten a bit stale_. It made sense to him, as no tribute had died in over a week.

Suddenly, three concurrent explosions went off, with one of the three close to each of the originals. Then another three cracking noises erupted through the dark, throwing up clouds of orange and black. These three were louder than the previous ones.

The career acted quickly, climbing back down through the window. Briell had already begun throwing everything back into her pack. "Who's blowing up what?" she asked without stopping.

"It's the gamemakers. They're compressing the arena."

Briell nodded motioned to grab Brodrin's pack.

"Leave it!" he said quickly.

The two sprinted down the stairs and out the door, letting the plate—tied to the doorknob—crash onto the floor. Just as they got outside, Brodrin halted abruptly.

"Come on!" she yelled.

"Go on ahead. I'll catch up." He didn't wait for her response before he ran back up the stairs. The explosions were becoming much more frequent and loud. They no longer seemed to be happening in sets of threes. Brodrin snatched both of his swords from their resting position against his bedroom wall and zipped back towards his exit.

When he got back to the door, to his surprise, she was still waiting for him. Her eyes narrowed as she saw what he had rushed back to retrieve. She opened her mouth to scold him but before she could another explosion went off. This one was too close. They covered their heads and crouched towards the ground as bits of cement and wood sprayed in all directions.

Their next move was fueled by nothing but instinct. The two ran as fast as they could through the street. Briell lead Brodrin by a slight margin, and they made no effort to focus on a specific direction. The houses began to explode behind them at a rapid rate.

Very quickly, Brodrin's side began to feel like it was splitting open. He struggled to keep up his breathing. But no matter how hard he pushed his body, the explosions felt unrelenting. When he looked back, he saw nothing but a flurry of rock and flame.

Finally Briell cut left through one of the alleys. This did nothing to end the chase. The blasts followed the two of them like a furious, unrelenting beast.

Then without warning, one of the houses, a little farther ahead of the pair, burst open from the inside out. The walls shattered and spat themselves in every direction. Brodrin felt something cut into his shoulder. Briell stumbled to the ground, but she almost immediately regained her balance.

They kept running. Brodrin felt lightheaded. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his swords became heavier and heavier.

They dashed down the street for what felt like an hour, but more likely it was about only another minute. When Brodrin missed a step and crashed into the cement beneath him, he didn't bother trying to get up. He knew his strength had been spent. Briell looked back at him and stopped in her tracks.

"No! Get out of here!" he screamed.

It wasn't until he heard the clarity of the scream did he realize that the explosions had stopped. Briell rushed over, breathing so heavy that she couldn't speak. She inspected his shoulder and took a look at his thigh. The wound on his leg had resulted in a genuine limp, as it hurt to put weight on it.

The career pulled his injured arm away as soon as she'd removed the bit of debris from it. He too, had lost the ability to speak momentarily as he struggled to catch his breath.

They stared at each other for a moment. Her eyes didn't hold the normal dose of fury and disapproval. For a second, to him at least, she looked content. They both let their backs quickly begin to ache on the unforgivingly stiff street. They stared up at the artificial night sky. Beds were mere steps away, in the rooms of buildings that had yet to be destroyed. But yet, even a few extra steps seemed much too far for now.

* * *

Shattered pieces of brick, cement, massive splinters of high-quality wood littered the streets behind them as the two tributes made their way down the street in the opposite direction of the carnage. The explosions had stopped abruptly, creating a definite line between the ravaged part of the arena and the unscathed section.

"They're closing up the arena. The explosions started on the outside and closed in on us," he said as they walked. "They want to force more confrontations."

"Is that just fun for you?" she asked, "assuming that everyone else around you is innately less aware and unintelligent."

"You won't have to deal with me much longer. The gamemakers are making sure of that. I'd say by that showing, they want the games done within two weeks."

Briell lowered her voice in a mocking mimic. "By my calculations, from the radius of the blast, I'd say more about 16 days, 7 hours and 32 minutes."

Brodrin fought the urge to say something back in retaliation. They walked for close to a half an hour before anyone said anything.

"Those swords were really worth your life?" she asked.

"If that piece of shit from 7 was able to take on Niah head-on, he knows how to fight. If I were to run into him without weapons, I'd be dead."

"Plan on taking him on alone?"

"He's mine."

"Few people think like that."

"Wanting to make terrible people pay? That's how the world thinks."

"No, I mean most people wouldn't keep thinking about vengeance when their life is in danger. You were presented with a blatant threat to your life, and instead of going with your natural inclination of self-preservation, you risked everything to make sure that you could get revenge."

"Or maybe I was thinking ahead. Keeping my swords is an act of self-preservation. If you haven't noticed, weapons come in handy around here."

"Not as much when your face is blown off."

Brodrin stopped in the middle of the street. "Analyzing me won't get you anywhere. I can tell what you're doing. You think I have another layer of complexity to me. That there's something left to figure out about me."

She nodded.

"That's all in your head. You're filling in blanks that don't exist. I'm a career. I have no problem with killing and I sure as hell—"

"Please… please help," said a raspy voice.

Brodrin lifted his swords, but only for a second. The boy approached, seemingly inch by inch. Half his face was covered in dirt, most likely from the explosions. His lips were beyond chapped, and he didn't seem to possess the energy to blink.

"W—water?" he pleaded.

"Rowan!" Briell rushed over to him and gave him a hug.

The young boy did not reciprocate. His arms dangled meekly at his sides. "Do you have water?"

She sighed painfully. "I'm so sorry. I lost my pack in the explosions. Brodrin do you—" She cut herself off without looking back.

The career cleared his throat and made sure not to look at either of them directly. "We have to be close to one of the fountains by now."

But Briell wasn't listening. She gently cupped Rowan's face in her hands. The roundness of his head made him look younger than he was. "I'll get you some water. I promise."

Briell held her hand out to the young boy, and they began to walk hand-in-hand down the silent road. Brodrin made sure to lag far behind.

It didn't take long before Rowan couldn't walk anymore. Briell picked him up and tried to move as quickly as she could.

"Briell, let me carry him. You go on ahead and get some water. You'll get there faster and you can bring it back to us," he said. "I'd run on ahead, but I'd be too slow with my leg."

She shot him a glare. "You think I'm an idiot. How perfect would it be for you to be left alone with him? Blame it on the dehydration."

"Briell, I swear, I won't hurt him. He doesn't have much time left."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm going to get him to that damn fountain." She increased her speed, but she began to stumble more as her arms began to tire.

 _It's my fault. If I had earned her trust more, she could have left me with the kid._

Up ahead, Brodrin saw something in the distance. At first, it looked like a rock sprouting up from the cement. But as they got closer, the rock looked as if it was fidgeting and moving slightly. Soon the rock turned into a person. The person then turned into a girl. Once they were close enough, the girl turned into a career.

"Long time no see Locke," she said. The career from 1 looked as if she'd spent the entire games in bed, relaxing and sleeping to her heart's content. Her uniform had few rips or tears in it. She had no bags under her eyes and she wore a confident smile.

Brodrin limped in front of Briell and Rowan. "Briell take the kid and keep going. I'll meet up with you after I finish her off. It won't take long."

The tribute from District 1 didn't bother getting up. Instead, she aimlessly twirled a small knife between her fingers. "You two look like shit."

She wasn't wrong. Brodrin could barely stand. He leaned heavily on his right leg and one of his blades dangled at his side. His shoulder made it too difficult to hold properly. His blood-soaked clothes had started to feel uncomfortably brittle as they slowly dried.

Briell didn't look much better. A shallow cut above her eye had bled significantly, covering most of her cheek.

He looked back at the boy, who looked like he was staring at Brodrin's injured leg. Briell groaned as she fell to her knees, still struggling to hold the boy in her arms.

"Rowan, I'm sorry. Stay behind me," she said as she tucked the withering tribute behind her and stood back up.

 _Something isn't right._

Brodrin looked to Briell, "Take the kid and leave."

"Killing the two of you won't be very hard. You can barely stand Locke. And you Window, you're just as exhausted. Can you even see through all that blood?" The whole time, she didn't look at the two of them though. Instead, she looked intently at Rowan.

"Briell take him now. I'll be fine with her."Brodrin looked back at Briell with a bewildered look. But Briell stood still. Her eyes were as wide as they could get, and her mouth was ajar.

"Briell?"

She dropped to her hands and knees. Nestled into her back, the handle of a knife was quite visible.

The boy had already made it halfway over to the girl from 1 by the time Brodrin realized what had happened. Brodrin rushed over to Briell, who remained silent.

"Briell, just breath," he tried to say as soothingly as he could. She looked up over at Rowan as he wearily made his way over to the female career. Brodrin focused on the knife and its location. Luckily, the placement could have been much worse.

"She's not even dead," the girl from 1 complained.

The boy fell to his knees. "Please. I need water. Please."

The girl rolled her eyes, still lounging in a seated position in the middle of the street. She looked over at the boy, smiled and then jammed the knife into his chest. The boy fell onto his back as he started to let out a gargling noise.

"No!" Briell screamed. "Rowan!"

Finally, the career got to her feet. "The kid was with me for the past week. Didn't let him have much water. Told him if he put that knife through you, I would give him all the water he wanted," she said quite matter-of-factly. "I sent him to you, and then I rushed ahead to cut you off here."  
Briell began to shake.

"You think I didn't know what you were trying to do from the start? I saw you run after the kid at the Cornucopia."

"Briell, I'll handle this. Don't move any more, it'll cause more bleeding."

"I could tell he liked you," she looked at Briell. "He wouldn't have stabbed you in the back, literally, if you didn't look like complete hell. When we spotted the two of you struggling to walk a block, even he could see that I wouldn't have much trouble finishing you two off."

"I'm going to kill you," Brodrin said through gritted teeth.

"I'm real scared." With finesse, she twirled a sword in her right hand and a long dagger in her left.

Briell stalked past Brodrin as if he wasn't even there.

He grabbed her arm. "Briell don't."

She tugged once, but Brodrin held on tight. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she swung around and landed a solid punch into Brodrin's cheek, sending him to the cold ground.

Briell then sprinted towards the smirking girl. The career swung her sword out, but it sliced through air. Briell was too quick. She ducked below the blade and then began her onslaught.

Her blows were savage and unrelenting. First, she brought a closed fist into the other girl's temple. Then she grabbed the career by her collar and yanked her face straight into the path of a sharp knee. Both weapons fell onto the street after that hit.

The smirk had been wiped clean from her face. Only blood and fear remained on it. The kicks and punches kept coming, unrelenting in their savagery.

The girl from 1 quickly had lost any will to fight back. Her only priority was attempting to blunt the attacks that kept coming. She tried to protect her head with her hands, but that merely left her stomach and sides vulnerable. Briell threw body shot after body shot until her hands fell, then she'd throw a hard jab at her head.

Brodrin couldn't bring himself to do anything. He could only stand and watch.

Briell brought a hard kick into the girl's left knee. Brodrin heard a sharp _crack_. The girl screamed in agony, falling to her knees. But Briell didn't seem to care. She kicked the girl in the face and leapt on top of her. She swung left-right, left-right, left-right until Brodrin pulled her off.

The girl was completely unrecognizable. Her face was a purple pulp with both eyes swollen shut. Blood oozed aggressively from her nose and mouth.

Briell struggled to attack again, but only for a moment. Finally, it looked as if she actually had a chance to see the still image of the girl.

The now-blind career groaned miserably like a wounded animal. Then her body went still, and the groans stopped.


	31. Chapter 31 - Confession

**Chapter 31 - Confession**

The moonlight glazed over house after house as Kaylor made his way through a desolate back alley. He felt guilty for coming to see Pell.

She had explained that she needed some rest for an important talk that she was planning on having with one of her neighbors. The kindly neighbor had a good friend, willing to give her a job in secret.

But something kept bothering him. Something about how she'd been acting in the last week had unsettled him. It made him feel queasy as his mind lingered on it in his unnecessarily large bed at home.

He moved as silently as he could through the unused alleyway. Bits of broken bottles littered the cracked pavement. When he finally reached the end of the alley, he looked in all directions to be sure there were no incidental onlookers around.

Pell's building faced one of many paved open spaces. The circular center was completely surrounded by living quarters. During the week, vendors could set up makeshift stands to sell their wares. Whenever there were inspections or widespread searches of everyone's homes, they all grouped together in the center of the mini trade hub.

It took Kaylor a very long 12 seconds to get across the exposed area. He peaked around the corners one last time before preparing his hurried walk across.

Then he spotted Pell. Even in the dark, he had little trouble identifying her. She had her hood up. Without taking much care to check for other people or peacekeepers, she cut across the open area.

Kaylor followed with ease. _She's not even checking behind her, not once._

Pell kept walking with a stoic purpose, as if she knew exactly where she was going. Yet, at the same time, her posture appeared uncertain and timid.

She continued down the street, avoiding all the more discreet alleys and side streets available to her. Eventually she made it to another set of buildings that looked quite similar to the ones she lived in.

She opened the door and walked inside without hesitation. Kaylor waited for a moment. Then he entered the building as well, snagging a glimpse of Pell before she rounded a corner. Kaylor shuffled hastily to catch up. When he reached the end of the hall, he peaked around the corner.

Pell was waiting in front of a door. She knocked softly. When nothing happened, she knocked again. Then she knocked a third time. Each time she knocked a bit louder.

Finally the door opened, but Kaylor couldn't see who had answered it. He faintly heard a groggy voice that sounded just as confused as he was.

She didn't answer. Instead, a knife slipped out from her sleeve and she lifted it up at whoever had spoken. With the knife pointed into the room, she slowly moved forward and entered the room.

He felt his skin prickle and his whole body begin to sweat as he rushed over to the room she'd just entered. The door hadn't yet been closed.

Pell stood near the doorway with the knife stiffly pointed towards the resident. He held his hands up. He was about average height with decent muscle tone. His features were rather sharp making him look slightly older than he probably was.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice down.

"You have a knife!" was all he could respond back with in a whisper.

"Great observation," she said.

"Pell, this isn't you."

She closed the door without breaking her gaze on her apparent captive. She motioned over to the living room. The boy's home was much smaller than anything Kaylor had lived in, but compared to Pell's place it was a minor upgrade. The kitchen, though quite dated, didn't look like it was one wrong move from caving in on itself due to rust. Plus, there was actually a living room.

"Pell, what are you doing?"

"His name is Hayden. He used to go to school with me. He knows what really happened that night my father died," she said. "Tonight, you're going to tell the truth."

"We both know what happened that day." He looked over at Kaylor. "Please, tell her to stop, she's going to—"

"Shut up!" she said without doing a good job of keeping her voice down. "You've been telling everyone that for years. It's going to stop. You're going to tell me what really happened."

"You already know," he said meekly.

"There was an investigation. But no one was allowed to read the reports, except you and your mother."

"What makes you think we got to see any more information than anyone else?"

"Your uncle led the investigation."

He looked towards the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She took a step closer to Hayden. "I really don't like the sight of blood." Tears pooled in her eyes.

"Pell, just relax," Kaylor said. "Please."

"It's the truth," he said almost desperately. "You're father killed those people."

Kaylor snatched at the knife, getting tight hold of her wrist. She dropped it without an ounce of retaliation. The knife barely bounced on the old, shredded carpet.

Pell's eyes were wide open, as if she'd just witnessed a murder. She seemed to be looking at something beyond Kaylor.

"Pell, I'm so sorry. Please."

Yet despite his plea, she looked as if all the fight and anger had fled her body in an instant. She continued to stare at something, so Kaylor turned around. Hayden held up a piece of charred metal. The chain was tiny and at the end of it, there was a paintbrush.

Pell took in a deep breath. "Where'd you get that?"

"It was in the rotor. It didn't take long for them to realize who it belonged to. When they brought you in for questioning, they didn't even ask about it. You were wearing it that day, like you always do."

Her hand touched the tiny bit of jewelry that hung from her neck.

"We're leaving," she said. She made it to the door without looking at anyone.

"You know why we pushed you out?"

Pell stopped.

"It wasn't because we blamed you for what your dad did. Like the rest of us, there was nothing you could have done. But you refused to believe the truth. You just couldn't accept what had happened. We couldn't forgive that."

* * *

"Here let me see your arm." Kaylor reached for her wrist.

Pell lazily pulled away, her body slouched against the wall.

"Please." He touched her shoulder as gently as he could. He felt relief when she didn't flinch at his touch. Then he felt guilty that he had to hope for such an outcome in the first place. "Let me check to make sure."

He inspected her arm, turning it over both ways.

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. He knew those words wouldn't take away what he'd done.

After another 20 minutes of silence, Pell finally looked over at him. His body tensed up. He knew that what she was going to say to him wouldn't be pleasant. It would hurt, a lot.

She leaned her head towards his with slow, dauntless purpose. When their lips met, she did not move hers. She rested them between his, locking them in place for a moment.

She fell away from his lips in a way that scared him. "Thank you," she said.

"You should hate me."

She shook her head.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"I don't think I was trying to kill him. I can't be sure, but I think I was going to slash at him. Make him bleed on his arm a little. At least, that's what I told myself I was doing." She began to speak rather matter-of-factly. "I'm trying to figure out if it's better that I know the truth. Will I feel happier years from now, knowing that my father really did cause those deaths?"

"What do you think?" he whispered.

"I'm not going to care. He's still dead. Doesn't really matter how. He's still dead. Before this, I thought, if I made Hayden admit that I was right, that my dad didn't hurt anyone, I'd get him back in some bullshit spiritual way. He'd be the man I knew he was and at least one other person would have to admit that. It wouldn't have saved me from this."

"This?"

"The actual pain. He's gone. He'll always be gone. It doesn't matter if he died saving a dozen sweet little children, or he died just after telling me how much he loved me. He'd still be dead and that pain would still feel just like this. Hollow."

"What can I do?" The question lumbered from his mouth. "I want to help."

She turned to look at him again. "Make sure not to fall asleep. You need to be home before everyone else is up."

"I love you," he said.

She did not say it back. She stared at him as though she hadn't even heard what he said. She looked as if she was contemplating absolutely nothing. They remained sitting against the wall together for a few more hours, silent.


	32. Chapter 32 - The Game

**Chapter 32 – The Game**

Briell had let Brodrin wash off the blood from her hands and tend to the wound on her back, but besides that, the two had had little interaction. They sat on the edge of the fountain, surrounded by nothing but cold pavement and lifeless windows staring out at them. Brodrin hated the thought of being so exposed, but Briell had become almost catatonic. She stared into nowhere with eyes as blank as the synthetic night sky above them.

It had been at least 6 hours since he'd last heard her speak. Up until this point, he'd chosen to let the silence be. Words felt hollow when in the presence of true self-loathing.

The career had spent most of that time creating trip wires around the entire perimeter. Every nearby alley had at least two wires hidden within them. Similar to his door devices, the alarms were rudimentary, but difficult to spot. He'd taken as much care and time as he could to make sure they'd alert anyone loitering around the fountain.

Finally he spoke, but only because he had an idea to bring her out of the reverie of pain. "It's been a long time since I saw someone off a tribute like that." He forced an authentic-sounding chuckle, "I mean, I've seen plenty of tributes kill with their bare hands. Strangulation will never go out of style if you ask me. When you've watched as much footage of the games as I have, it's hard to be surprised at anything."

She said nothing.

"You really think that kid would have tried to betray us if we had water? At first, I felt a little guilty when I saw how thirsty he was. I mean, if I'd grabbed my bag when we ran, he would have been fine. But when that kid showed his true colors, I guess it wasn't our loss."

"Don't."

"What?" he asked.

"You want me to hate you instead of myself."

He smirked. "Don't think we're really on the same page right now."

She dipped her hand in the water, cutting it through the ripples.

"Anyways, you did your part. I did mine. There's only two tributes left besides us by my count." Brodrin grabbed his pack and his swords. He began to walk before she stopped him with her question.

"Why not just kill me now?" she asked without looking at him. "This would be the best time. You have weapons, I don't. Plus, I'm injured." She said it almost more like a statement than a question, "why not just do it now?"

"Too easy."

"You're lying. You've been lying to me since we met."

"It's all part of the game."

She broke the stare she'd held for hours to look at Brodrin, right in his green eyes. "I don't know what you're planning or why you're planning it, but I do know that whatever it is won't make it all better. You think it will."

"It will." Then he walked down the street a block and cut into an alleyway, and soon enough, the moonlight and artificial cricket noises were his only companions.


	33. Chapter 33 - Lost Secrets

**Chapter 33 – Lost Secrets**

Kaylor awoke with a pulsating headache. His vision was blurry and the movement of his hands felt light and unsure. He seemed to sink into the couch beneath him.

He felt a body leaning on his left side. When he looked, he felt some relief, but mostly anxiety. "Pell." He tried to shake her, but his arms still felt doughy and weak. "Pell."

"No need to worry, I assure you she'll be just fine," said a soft voice.

It made Kaylor flinch. He looked across the room. "Lead Director?"

"How are you feeling? The drugs should ware off pretty quickly." The tiny woman sat in a puffy white chair. "I'm sorry about those pesky precautions. They're never any fun for anyone."

"It's not Pell's fault. She didn't want to see me. I threatened her if she wouldn't let me visit her. It was—"

She smiled with a look of true adoration. "The first question people usually ask after coming out of a drug-induced blackout is, 'Where am I?' or 'What do you want from me?'"

He ignored her. "She's already completely isolated from the entire rest of the district. No one will know that she had any contact with me."

"Pennella will not be harmed today. I promise." Her statement didn't stop Kaylor's hands from shaking. "Oh look at that, she's waking up."

"Pell." He gently held her head in his hands as she came to.

"Kaylor?" she asked, unable to find his face through squinting eyes.

"You alright?"

She nodded. "Where are we?"

For the first time, Kaylor looked around to take in his surroundings. They were in a living room. The kitchen was just steps away, and the furniture was all white. The shades were all pulled down on all the windows, despite it being pitch black out.

"Wait, we've been here before," he said.

"Very good memory Mr. Valden."

Pell looked around too. Her eyes had begun to open up. "What do you mean?"

"This is Brodrin's apartment," he said.

"That would be correct," Ambervin said. "I thought the new furniture would throw you off. Very little gets by you."

"What do you want with Kaylor?" Pell asked. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"Once again, you two continue to charm me. No darling, I'm not here to discipline the two of you because of some forbidden romance. You two think you're the first couple to bridge the gap between the academy and 2's less affluent citizens?"

"Then what do you want?" she asked.

"I'd like to show you something," she lifted up a small remote.

The screen flashed on, immediately showing an image of a young student speaking across a desk at what looked like his guide. The student looked to be about 9 or 10. He was a career. Kaylor could tell because of the black collar on his shirt.

"That's all I know," said the young career.

"It's very good that you brought this to my attention. Like I said, I'll make sure that they will not be harmed. You very well may have saved their lives by coming to me."

"Will… will this hurt my chances of staying a career?"

"Absolutely not," he said. "You should know by now, loyalty is always rewarded, not punished. It's true, your family might find themselves in a bit of hot water for a time, but things like this usually stay quite discreet. In the end, everyone will come out the better for it."

The young career nodded with a half-smile.

Pell nudged Kaylor as they both kept staring at the screen. "Brodrin."

"It can't be."

"It's him," she said.

Ambervin pressed a few buttons on the remote, and the screen seamlessly cut to a different picture. This time, it appeared to be as if the camera was attached to someone's forehead, giving a first-person view of a hallway. The camera stopped at an apartment doorway. Kaylor could see the white gloves of whoever was attached to the camera. He had an automatic rifle in his hand. He looked back behind him, revealing five armed peacekeepers.

The one through which they were getting the first-person perspective stepped in front of the door. He took another step backward and then rammed his foot through. Chaos immediately flooded the screen. The peacekeeper looked around frantically, not keeping his gaze on anything for more than a second. The door had caused a loud smash, immediately followed by screams and heavy shuffling of feet as the peacekeepers rushed in. A man stepped in front of a woman who looked to be his wife. The peacekeepers fell upon both of them, shoving them to the ground.

Suddenly, Kaylor was looking into the room he'd been in just a few weeks ago; the room that was only a few feet away from him at this very moment. The young Brodrin was in there, along with another girl. She couldn't have been older than 15 or 16. She held her hands up, still looking at Brodrin.

"It's going to be okay, just remember I—"

One peacekeeper smashed the butt of his gun across her face. She collapsed to the floor, and blood immediately began dripping from her mouth. Brodrin screamed and leapt onto the armed assailant. Without much effort, the peacekeeper whipped the boy off his back, hurtling him face-first into a glass vase resting on a dresser.

He pushed himself back up faster than his body could handle, and he stumbled back into the dresser. "Dioria!" he begged.

She lifted her head weakly. The blood had pooled on the bright carpet. Indistinct white hands seized her by the arms and yanked her through the door. Brodrin lurched forward, his hand outstretched. A deep gash went through most of the left part of his face.

Suddenly, the screen went black.

Ambervin folded her hands into her lap. "I know that's not easy for you two to watch. It's a horrific scene, and it chills me to the bone every time I see it."

"What did you think his family was doing?" Kaylor asked.

"Brodrin astutely reported that his parents and sister were smuggling food into the less affluent neighborhoods of District 2. Usually this wouldn't have been a significant issue. Like the guide said, a situation like that would have been better to be kept hush-hush," Ambervin said. "However, the investigators quickly discovered that the supplies were just the beginning of it. It turned out that the family had been behind several disappearances. It seems that some citizens had been permanently leaving the districts for alternative lifestyles. Obviously, these departures were completely unsanctioned."

"A resistance?" he said.

"An insurgency. One that could have resulted in the deaths of countless more who could have been witlessly roped in. We've seen it happen before."

"Brodrin didn't know," Pell said.

"No dear, he did not." Ambervin straightened out her already unwrinkled dress skirt. "Needless to say, he did not take it well."

"You took his family away!" Pell screamed.

"I was not a part of this investigation dear. I understand your frustration. It was not a pleasant situation," she smiled brightly.

Pell stared at Ambervin in astonishment.

"Why are you showing us all of this?" Kaylor asked, his voice trembling more than he'd intended.

That's when he saw it in Ambervin's eyes, the look that he was so afraid of: a look of deep pity.

"I wanted to show you this so you can understand everything that is going to happen," she looked directly at Pell. "Perhaps one day, knowing this will help you forgive him."

"Forgive who?" Pell shot back quickly.

Ambervin just gave that great big smile of hers that had come to inject true terror into Kaylor.


	34. Chapter 34 - My Way

**Chapter 34 – My Way**

Brodrin moved through yet another moonlit alleyway. A couple bits of lingering wrappers and half-empty garbage cans served to give the impression that people had once inhabited the area.

The gamemakers thought it fun to make it pour for the entire previous night. Puddles remained all over the place, making Brodrin's steps harder to keep completely silent.

Slightly crouched, he kept his pace slow and steady. He turned the corner sharply, blades at the ready. But he saw nothing but empty street yet again. He must have rounded a hundred corners, but each time felt like the one; the moment where he'd find himself staring at Eldan's deceitfully kind eyes.

As he stalked down the street his gaze jumped left to right, checking the doors and windows. He moved a couple blocks before he noticed it. The scene was so lifeless that he almost missed it.

The door to the building was open. Inside, a body lay on the living room table. The face had been completely untouched; the rest of him, not so much. Several parts of his body had knives and forks sticking out of them. Cuts of varying depths covered his stomach. The arms and legs had been tied down to the feet of the table. However, the rope on his left arm had been severed. It looked as though the boy had merely rubbed the rope against the edge of the table until it snapped.

Brodrin circled around, inspecting the body and the room. Some of the food, plates, glasses, and silverware had been knocked off the table, but none of the surrounding furniture had been disturbed.

He looked into the open eyes of the dead tribute. They still held a heavy dose of fear in them. _He caught you in your sleep._ He inspected a bruise on his forehead. _When you woke he knocked you right back out again. By the time you came to, you were all tied up. You must have known then that it was over._

The tribute's mouth remained slightly gaping. He stared at the lifeless face. _Why didn't Eldan finish you off? He tortured you, but then he left you alive enough to partially get out of your restraints. He did the same thing to Niah. It's as if he's afraid to finish the job._

Brodrin took a seat at the table. He didn't quite understand, but the presence of the dead boy calmed him. The tribute was 15 and from District 9, if Brodrin's memory served him correctly.

Brodrin sighed and leaned back on his chair. Soon enough, he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Brodrin had only slept for a few hours. He didn't linger much after that. He didn't even bother to look at the dead boy again before leaving the room.

Occasionally, he could here explosions that didn't sound that far off. The gamemakers weren't rushing, but they did want to keep making the arena smaller, slowly.

So Brodrin kept walking. Soon enough, he found himself staring up at the tallest building in the arena; 10 stories taller to be exact. The Cornucopia rested at its base. Brodrin walked up to the white doors with their polished brass doorknobs. When he opened the doors, they didn't make so much as a creak.

Brodrin's brow furrowed at what he saw. Much of the furniture was overturned and shredded. Bits of cotton lay strewn all over the floor. All of the lights on the ceiling and walls had been smashed. With few windows, Brodrin found it difficult to see clearly. He kept his swords at the ready as he moved through the mayhem.

When he found the stairwell, he groaned. It would be a long walk to the top. He forced himself to walk slowly, despite the fact that it prolonged the uncomfortable ache that had started in his thighs.

Eventually, he climbed the last step and reached the door to the roof. It had no railings on the ledges, just open sky lay beyond.

The roof had a single fountain in the center, though water did not flow from it, keeping its pale marble floor exposed and arid.

On one of the ledges, a boy dangled his feet as he stared down at the ground below. He hadn't bothered to turn around yet. He had one axe on either side of him, resting on the gravel.

Brodrin walked towards him.

"You ever wonder if they'd forgive you?" Eldan asked, still staring at the ground as if it was beckoning him.

He stopped with plenty of space between them. "They?"

"The ones you've killed. If you could talk to them again, would they forgive you?"

"No."

"I think I'd have to agree," he said with a forced chuckle. "for both of us."

"Is that what you want, their forgiveness?" he asked. "Is that why you could never find it in you to finish them off. Did you leave them alive in some hope that they'd forgive you?"

"I'm sorry for Niah."

"You're an odd one."

He turned to look at Brodrin with an inquisitive look.

"I've seen people take pleasure in killing before. You're not the first. But for some reason, you don't seem like you can cope with what you've done. That mess downstairs, that's from you isn't it."

Eldan got to his feet with axes in hand. "I try to fight what I am. But it's inescapable, I always end up hurting people."

"That's going to change."

"I hope so," said Eldan.

Brodrin leapt forward with purposeful wrath, but Eldan slipped to the side and quickly backed away from the edge. Each swing of his swords cut through the air with the intent to cleave Eldan in two.

The tribute from 7 dodged and parried each attack with a frustrating level of competence. He moved with a lethal rhythm, keeping his eyes on Brodrin's hips.

The career halted his attack, "This how you beat the rest? You just evade and tire me out."

Eldan kept his twin axes at the ready. "I know that won't work on you."

"Damn right." He charged again.

Each time their weapons clashed, the metallic collision sent a reverberating jolt through his arm. Soon enough, his hands felt slightly numb.

 _How does he move this well when he didn't have any training? He had to. He learned it somewhere._

Eldan's feet never stopped moving. He constantly sidestepped left and right, sometimes faking one direction and quickly cutting to the opposite one. It made Brodrin's attacks toothless.

Then, when it looked like Eldan was about to back up to avoid another downward slash from Brodrin, he instead leapt shoulder-first into Brodrin's rib cage. The blow sent him hurtling to the ground.

With Eldan on top, he lifted one of his axes and brought it down directly towards Brodrin's head. He reacted quickly, bringing his swords up to deflect the blow. The axe glanced off and found itself in his shoulder instead. The cut wasn't very deep, but the pain struck immediately.

It forced him to let go of the sword in his right hand. With the free hand, Brodrin grabbed his assailant's collar and yanked him towards his other sword. The blade grazed his throat, causing more nervousness than damage. Eldan leapt off of him, rolling back to create some distance between the two. He quickly covered the shallow wound with his free hand.

Brodrin found himself rather close to the edge, his back facing out towards the open air. "Relax," he said without a smile. "I didn't get a vein." He then dislodged the axe from his shoulder, making a considerable effort not to wince, and tossed it out over the edge.

Then, at first, he took a step towards the sword he'd dropped. He looked back at Eldan as he waited patiently alert. Without another glance, he kicked the sword laying on the ground. The weapon had also vanished into the abyss below.

Eldan nodded.

Brodrin twirled his sword expertly in his left hand, pretending he hadn't heard him. He feinted a lunge forward to see how Eldan would react. _I'm not getting fooled like last time._

Eldan leapt to the side, his axe recoiled and ready.

Brodrin moved in again, taking advantage of the extra reach he got from his sword compared to Eldan's short axe.

Without his second axe to help guarantee that Brodrin's strikes wouldn't land, Eldan began to look more nervous defensively. More often than not, the tribute leapt backwards. Soon enough, the career had pushed his adversary all the way to the other end of the roof. When Eldan noticed how close he was getting to the edge, he couldn't help but look behind him to see if he was a step away from plummeting to the ground. With his eyes taken off him for a split second, Brodrin swung his sword and caught Eldan's axe at an odd angle, sending it flying from his hand. The axe splashed up a bit of gravel as it hit the ground before bouncing over the edge.

Eldan had an odd look of relief on his face as Brodrin's blade slashed across his chest, sending him to the ground. The wound proved shallow, not anywhere close to a killing blow.

"Now it's my turn to suffer, isn't it," Eldan said. He hadn't bothered to get up.

Brodrin stared at him.

"I didn't kill my sister," he winced as he touched his newest wound. "I know you think I did."

"You said she's dead because of you."

"That part is true, but I didn't kill her." He looked up at Brodrin.

"I'm having trouble figuring out what the difference is." _He's not going to explain it to me. That's not what this is about._

"Her name was Acasia."

Brodrin nodded.

"You think I'll see her again?"

"Only one way to find out."

"You're right." He slowly got to his feet. "I'm ready." He stood up straight and then gave a nod.

Brodrin cocked back his arm.

Then he heard the door to the roof slam open.

It could only be one person. Brodrin stopped, but he didn't take his eyes off of Eldan.

The wounded tribute looked over Brodrin's shoulder. "This'll be an interesting end to it all. You take your revenge on me, then she will look to take her revenge on you for her friend from 6."

"How do you know about that?" _Is she close enough to hear all of this?_

"I saw it all. I'd been following you for a few hours before you ran into him. It was a very close fight." He sighed, "Anyway, let's not let things linger. Are you ready?"

Brodrin didn't answer. The blade went through his heart seamlessly, and the blood dripped down his chest before he fell backwards over the edge with the sword still planted within him.

Briell remained silent as Brodrin turned around slowly to face her. She had dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept all night.

"You made it," he said.

"What was he talking about?" she asked. "About me taking revenge?"

Brodrin looked at her. He stared into her eyes, enjoying the moment. Soon her eyes would fill with pain and rage. Soon, she wouldn't be able to look at him directly without feeling disgusted.

"What was he talking about?" Her voice filled with a drop more of fury.

He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, "I killed Gavin."

Her jaw clenched. It was the answer that she had already known.

"I found him huddled over the bodies of those two younger ones. They'd killed each other when he was out scavenging for food." He noticed the parachute floating quietly behind Briell. "They knew that both of them couldn't survive with him forever. Eventually, he would've had to choose."

"No." The tears pooled in her eyes, but refused to come down just yet. "He wouldn't have chosen."

"There's only one winner in the games."

"It's all about winning to you, isn't it?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why do everything you've been doing? Why make an alliance with me? Why bomb your score during training?"

"Because I'm going to win this game my way." Brodrin had a good guess as to what would be in the container that was attached to the parachute. He walked slowly towards Briell.

She leapt backwards with her fists up.

Brodrin showed her his palms as he circled around her towards the metal container. It wasn't much larger than a lunchbox.

"Where the hell did that come from?" she asked. She stayed in her fighting stance.

He crouched down to open the gift. "They just sent it." Brodrin pulled out a knife. It was very thin and about 4 inches in length. Then he heard a soft hum. It seemed to surround him on all sides. _They want it to end bloody._ As he got up from one knee, he grabbed a fistful of gravel from the ground. Then he walked over to the edge opposite of Briell.

"What are you doing?" she shouted across the roof.

When he threw the gravel over the edge, it was as if an invisible monster immediately spat it back up at him. He covered his face as the tiny fragments of rock harmlessly pelted his body. Then he walked back towards Briell, dagger in hand. With only about 5 steps between them, he halted.

Briell's body tensed up. She was ready. "No reason to put this off then."

He nodded once and tossed the knife to her. She instinctively caught it at the handle. She looked at him with a look of confusion.

"Congratulations, you've just won this year's hunger games."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm winning," he said without getting rid of his monotone voice. "All you have to do is put that thing in my side here," he pointed, "and all this will be over."

"You think I'm going to fall for this?"

"I'll turn around if you want. You don't have to trust me to kill me."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm winning. I never wanted to survive these games. You ever notice how no one good ever wins the games? It's always a career or someone who was willing to stab a friend in the back. I'm changing that. Today, someone decent wins the games."

"What about Gavin? He was better than I'll ever be!"

"I wanted to keep Gavin alive, but he attacked me."

"He wouldn't have done that!"

"Normally no, but with the two girls dead, he was angry. He told me he wouldn't fight me if I told him their names. When I didn't say their names, he came at me."

"You didn't know their names," she said with painful realization.

Brodrin heard the explosion from a building below go off. "It doesn't matter. You get to go home. All you have to do is finish this." He pointed to his rib cage. "A stab there will do it."

"You asshole! You don't realize what you're doing! You don't get it."

 _For years, I imagined this moment so differently in my head. I imagined the gratitude as the sweetest cherry atop this whole mess of a life. It doesn't matter, it'll be over soon._

"Only one of us can survive this. I want it to be you."

"None of this makes sense," she said with a single tear of fury. "What aren't you telling me?"

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

The silence only lasted a few seconds before another explosion broke it. They were getting closer.

"I'm not going to kill you like this." She held out the dagger, looking as if intending to toss it on the ground.

"Wait."

"Tell me."

He waited. In that time, several more explosions went off. "You ever have that ache in your chest. That one that comes from true, pure sadness and regret?"

She stared with ferocious curiosity.

"That kind of pain, it just lingers. For me, it always stayed in my chest. Sometimes, it got so bad where I would get nervous if people got too close to me. I was worried that if someone bumped me, even a little, that pain inside me would shatter into shrapnel and somehow hurt more." He snickered, "I genuinely thought that for a long time."

"You lost someone."

"I lost everyone," he said. "You want the truth?"

She nodded.

He sighed, "I am so tired. I am truly and utterly exhausted from carrying the pain around. It's incessant and unbearable. So, I'm ending it, but on my terms."

"I won't. We're going to fight, and you're going to give it your all, just like me!"

 _She won't let me end it the way I want. Not unless I trigger her. There's only one way I'll be able to do that. She'll never forgive me, years from now even. But it's the only way._

He forced himself to say the names loudly. "Selah and Raelynn."

She stared with a look of bewilderment that quickly turned into morbid realization. "You knew? You knew their names."

"I knew."

"Why?"

"I needed to prove I was better."

"Better?" she screamed.

"I needed to win the games in my own way. He was the favorite to win the games. He needed to die somehow."

"Winning the games in your own way," she said to herself through gritted teeth. "You wanted this end, where everyone watching knows that you could win the games if you wanted, but instead, you're giving it to me like some undeserved charity."

"You do deserve it. You're a good person Briell."

"I was the perfect target, someone who showed an ounce of humanity when I tried to save Rolden. But, I wasn't a career or someone who'd racked up too high of a score like Gavin. I'm just some little trophy you get to present at the end."

"You get your life back. You get to go home to your family."

"Screw you Locke!" she squeezed the dagger so tight he could hear it. "You have no right; making me some damsel in distress, deciding that my life is worth the death of 23 others." Her icy tone made Brodrin's skin tingle in the most stressful way possible.

He felt his skin begin to heat up. "Selah and Raelynn." He held his hands up as if presenting something invisible. "I won my way."

Briell closed her eyes as she charged him. The blade pierced his side, right between the ribs. He grunted as his side immediately felt numb. He hugged her as the strength left his legs, and he felt himself begin to fall. "Thank you," he whispered. Everything turned to black.


	35. Chapter 35 - Final Game

**Chapter 35 – Final Game**

Brodrin stumbled back into consciousness, his body aching with a numbing soreness. He felt his eyes begin to open, but they only saw pure darkness. _Am I blind?_ His thoughts felt jumbled and unfocused. He then tried to bring his hands to his face, making him aware of something constraining his wrists. The material felt a bit itchy and pliable. The chair in which he sat felt stiff and smooth. Constant re-fidgeting failed to improve his seating situation, and the constraints began to make more noise as Brodrin continued to move.

"Who's there?" a cautious voice asked. The soft tone sounded familiar to him.

He replied, "Who are you? Where the hell am I?"

"B-Brodin?"

"Yeah." He now knew the owner of the voice, and he could feel the sweat begin to bead upon his forehead. "Pell."

"Oh my God! You're alive!"

"How did you get here?"

Before she could reply, the white lights decided to burst on, temporarily blinding both of them. But as the two slowly acclimated to the light, Brodrin attempted to take in as much information as possible.

The room was rectangular in shape, with him and Pell seated at one of the long ends. The white lights imbedded themselves in the ceiling, illuminating the stale, windowless room.

Squinting his eyes from the abrupt light, Brodrin examined his restraints. The dense polyester bands provided very little slack on his wrists, while the steal chair had been bolted down through the clean white tiles.

Suddenly the isolated door to Brodrin's left swung open, revealing a bland-white hallway. Aillan stood at attention, refusing to directly look at either captive. He stepped into the room with his usual stiffness, though his steps seemed a bit off, hesitant. He halted by the doorway, arms behind his back. _Why is here?_ Brodrin asked himself without any trace of a good guess.

Then a woman who Brodrin had never seen came in. She wore a white dress that ended just above her knees. The dress had a small collar on it, giving it a professional look, but besides that, it was rather unflashy. The outfit contrasted well to her light brown skin.

She stared at Brodrin to the point where it made him extremely uncomfortable, as if she were trying to take in every single detail of his face.

"Hello Brodrin," she smiled. "I'm incredibly pleased to meet you."

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

The woman continued to stare. "Come in please," she said without tearing her gaze away.

Kaylor walked into the room, his eyes constantly darting back and forth as he took in his surroundings. "Brodrin, Pell. You guys okay?"

"Kaylor!" A bead of sweat fell down his face. "What are either of them doing here? They didn't have anything to do with what I did in the games." He couldn't say he'd never talked to Pell, since he recognized her in the dark. A very foolish mistake that he was beginning to hate himself for.

Her back to Brodrin, the woman in white placed a gentle hand on Kaylor's arm, giving it a swift, gentle rub. "Please," she said gesturing across the room.

Kaylor walked, forcing a smile over at Pell. She responded with a look of pure anxiety, unable to fake a grin.

Aillan followed Kaylor in silence as the two walked to the other end of the room, their backs very close to the wall.

The small woman then gently shut the door. She walked to the corner behind Pell, dragging a plain, metal chair in front of the two of them. She took a seat, crossing her legs. A small, rectangular box rested on her lap. "You're… act of theater has raised some important issues in District 2 and the Capitol."

"It was my own idea. I did it alone," Brodrin said quickly.

"That's very noble of you to try and protect your friends." She sighed while retaining the smile she hadn't lost since she'd entered the room, "I empathize with your plight to protect the ones you love. I truly do."

"This the part where you torture us?" Pell asked, her voice unflinching.

The woman got up, pulling a blue handkerchief from her pocket. Without hesitating, she glided over to Pell's seat, wiping a bit of sweat from her forehead.

Pell didn't move. She just stared at the woman, who looked engrossed with the task at hand. When she finished, she put the handkerchief back in her pocket and sat back down. Then she opened the container, pulling out a knife, an exact replica of the one that Briell had stabbed him with.

The sight of the weapon made Brodrin pull on his restraints, hoping with all he had that they'd break.

The woman acted like she didn't notice his reaction. "I didn't finish my prototype until hours before you killed Eldan," she said holding the knife without any apparent sense of familiarity to the object. "We had to rush to get it to the arena for you."

Brodrin inspected the blade, but he couldn't figure out what made it special. She talked about it like it was crucial to the reason he was still alive. _With a knife that long, that should have been a kill,_ he thought. The clue was right in front of him, but he couldn't see it.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the woman lightly tapped the tip of the blade with her finger, immediately shattering it. The metallic-looking substance crumbled into dust, falling to the floor. "Just about any type of wind immediately takes care of that problem," she gestured to the tiny specks on the floor.

In its place, where the blade once was, rested a small needle. Now Brodrin understood, his death had been an elaborate hoax. He'd made every effort to turn his life into the ultimate ruse, but an even simpler one had outdone him.

"The substance doesn't even break skin," she showed the uninjured finger used to prick the point. "The needle punctures the body, releasing a paralyzing agent into the bloodstream. Your heart rate slows to a crawl and you are utterly unresponsive for the next two hours."

"Kept me alive just so you could torture me and kill me yourself? Let them go. It was just me. They don't mean anything to me. I don't have any friends," Brodrin said, trying to mask the desperation in his voice.

"We both know that's not true. We've been watching you for a very long time. We've seen the way you've protected Kaylor over the years, in your own way. We've seen how you saved Pell from starvation, continuing to visit and protect her as well." She smiled sadly. "You really are a sweetheart."

 _How does she know? They've known about me all this time._ "How?" he stammered.

Ignoring him, she placed what was left of the knife in the plastic container. Then she moved the chair to the side of the room. "Kaylor, the game you must play is simple." She positioned herself behind Brodrin and Pell. "You must cross all 12 lines reaching Mr. Locke and Ms. Erinite here. If you fail to reach us, Ms. Erinite will be executed." She explained the instructions casually, as if teaching someone how to ride a bike.

Brodrin looked at the thin blue lines on the floor. He hadn't thought much of them at the time. Each one had been placed about 5 feet apart, with the one closest to Brodrin and Pell resting exactly 5 feet from them. He frantically looked at the floor. _What's the catch?_

Kaylor inhaled deeply, staring at Brodrin and Pell. He took another glance at the lines, and then he moved forward. The first line lay only two steps in front of him.

Brodrin took his gaze off the thin lines, remembering Aillan's presence, as he stood unmoving behind Kaylor. _Why is he here?_ "Kaylor wait!" he screamed.

Kaylor's foot landed over the first line. The blade sunk deep into his left arm, and he yelled out in agony, clutching the wound.

"No!" Brodrin shouted.

"You'll receive one for each line you cross," the woman said from behind them.

Kaylor whirled around to find his attacker holding a knife in his hand. It was about four inches long and now dipped in red. Aillan's face looked like someone crafted it of stone, unblinking and lips pressed together.

"Kaylor, just wait! Let me talk to her!"

Kaylor looked past Brodrin and Pell towards the woman behind them. She merely shook her head without the slightest bit of sternness.

Kaylor wore a look of pained determination as he started to walk forward, still clutching his arm.

The next strike hit him in the right shoulder blade. Blood began to paint the floor to the sounds of Brodrin's screams. "Stop! I'll do anything, just stop!"

The third stab entered through the center of his back, missing his spine. This one caused him to fall to the ground. He groaned as he got up, slipping on the red liquid that pooled around him. But Kaylor kept inching forward, and without fail, the next cut came.

When he crossed the fourth line, Kaylor whipped around, catching Aillan's arm as he tried to bring it down on him. Aillan look surprised for a moment, but then he ripped the arm away with his free hand, putting the knife through Kaylor's hand as if in retribution for the resistance.

By the 9th line, Kaylor had resorted to crawling, as Aillan had pierced both his legs. Yet, still he kept moving forward.

"Stop Aillan! I swear I'll kill you! Stop!" Brodrin screamed. He violently rocked in his chair, struggling to free himself. The tears streamed down his face in such volume that his sight blurred from the moisture.

Pell had remained silent, staring at the bloody scene before her. Her face was blank and her body, unmoving.

Kaylor stopped at the 10th line, his hair drenched with sweat, his clothes soaked in red. He looked up at Brodrin and Pell, his jaw clenched.

"I'm so sorry Kaylor!" Brodrin screamed with utter futility. "I'm sorry!"

Slipping constantly, he stood back up. Two more lines remained.

He didn't seem to even notice the 11th stab, but the 12th caused him to collapse again. He crawled over to Pell.

"He beat your piece of shit game! Now get a doctor!" Brodrin screamed, his voice had gone almost completely hoarse. Blood had begun to slowly pool under his chair. He had rubbed his wrists past raw on the bands that held him.

Kaylor tried to get up, but he crashed back to the floor, exhausted. Aillan then walked over to Pell's chair and undid her restraints. She came to life, bursting out of her chair and flinging herself over to Kaylor. She dragged him up onto her kneeling lap, his face resting in her hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," Brodrin kept mumbling over and over.

"Brodrin it's alright. Just know that I'm proud of you," he took a labored breath. "I'm proud to be your friend."

He started sobbing, still struggling to free himself.

"Pell. I love—"

"Shhhhh. I know. I know. I love you too. Just be quiet and stay with me as long as you can," she said. She wasn't crying, but Brodrin could hear the pain in her voice, like pieces of shattered glass cutting her from the inside.

In that moment, Brodrin would have bitten his own hand off to be free. He needed to save Kaylor. He needed to kill that woman, to kill Aillan. _This is my fault. So many dead because of me. So many in pain because of me._ He continued to struggle, and he started to feel lightheaded.

He tried to look back at the woman. "I'm begging you, save him please!"

"He's gone," Pell said. She cradled his head, putting her fingers through his hair.

Brodrin stared at Kaylor. His face was so pale, and his eyes emptily stared at Pell. She quickly closed them.

Brodrin let out a long, tortured scream, his voice cracking the whole time. He lashed out so violently that he actually loosened his shackles a bit. Still, it wasn't enough for his hands to escape. The blood began to pour from his wrists in a heavy flow. "Kaylor!"

His screams didn't stop until he'd lost consciousness.


	36. Chapter 36 - Come Back

**Chapter 36 – Come Back**

Brodrin had woken up to darkness. He'd lost count of the hours that had gone by as he sat in the black void, reminding himself of what had happened. _He's dead. He's dead because of you,_ he repeated to himself over and over.

He could feel the bandages that had been wrapped around his wrists. For a second, he thought about tearing the bandages off and ripping his wounds open again. Then he quickly remembered Briell and Pell. _They hold all of the cards._

Another hour or three went by before a door opened. The light poured in, making Brodrin squint at the indiscernible figure before him.

"Get up Locke," said a voice he'd never heard before.

Brodrin got up immediately. Still, he couldn't make out a face.

The man gestured with a head nod for him to follow. They moved through the brightly lit hallways, with Brodrin following close behind. He stared at the bland white floor as they walked. The one who led didn't even bother to look back at any point. They took two left turns and a right before they stopped. Without hesitation, the man opened the door and walked in.

When Brodrin entered, he felt his body tense up. Everything in him wanted to curl up and run straight for the corner of the room. Trying to keep his head up felt like holding up the world. He looked across the solitary desk in the room. On the other end, the woman who'd revealed her little trick with the dagger sat with her hands folded.

She smiled with false eyes of sympathy. "Brodrin, I'm not going to pretend like we can ever forget about what happened to Kaylor. We both know, you hate me right now. You always will. You hate Aillan too," she gestured over to him.

Brodrin hadn't even noticed him standing completely still with his arms behind his back, fully at attention, looking at no one in particular.

"I'm here to offer you a deal," she said.

Brodrin looked over to the other side of the room where the man who'd led him lounged against a wall and began popping what looked like candy into his mouth. Beside him was shorter man. He instantly recognized the two. Selvand Lesput and Braven Akerrard were supposed to be dead, winners from District 2 who'd died before their time. Yet, here they were.

"I see you noticed our two other guests."

This made Brodrin snap back to attention.

"Their stories will be revealed to you in good time. What you need to know right now, is that you'll be working with them."

"Doing what?"

"Serving the Capitol."

 _What does she want with me?_

Softly he asked, "Pell?"

His fingers sunk into his palms to keep them from shaking.

"She's quite alright. You'll get to see her after I propose my offer."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it. If you let her live, I'll do it."

"That is assuring. Thank you Brodrin." Her voice held no smugness to it. "Aillan, would you be so kind as to escort Brodrin to Penella's room?"

Aillan's eyes widened almost to the point where they just might pop out. "Y-yes mam." He walked past Brodrin awkwardly, looking back to see if he would follow, but he hesitated.

"Briell," he murmured.

"She's the winner of the 72nd Hunger Games. She'll receive the same rewards and benefits just like her predecessors."

"She didn't know anything about what I was planning to do."

"We know. She's a victor now Brodrin. You don't have to worry about her."

"Just don't hurt them. You have me."

She sighed and walked around her desk. Brodrin stared at the floor.

"It pains me to see you hurting like this." She touched his cheek, causing him to flinch.

He shook his head, "I'm fine. Just tell me what to do." He tried to make his voice sound confident. _Don't sound too broken. Don't sound too weak. She'll have no use for you then!_

"Right now, I need you to go to Penella. She needs you."

Brodrin stared at Aillan's exposed back as they walked down the hall. The two walked for a few minutes without seeing another soul before Aillan abruptly stopped in front of one of the doors. A moment of silence permeated the hallway before he spoke, "These are her quarters. Yours are down the hall."

He nodded.

Aillan kept his chin up, but he couldn't seem to look back at Brodrin. "Very well, I'll leave you to it." He took a step back towards where they came.

"He was good you know. He was truly one of the good ones," he mumbled to Aillan's back. He stopped, but he did not turn around. He took a large breath, as if sucking in all of Brodrin's words, then he continued his rigid walk.

Brodrin opened the door. Pell sat on her square bed in the corner of the room with her head rested on the wall. She didn't bother to look at him as he entered.

He crossed the room and sat on the bed. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held on."I am sorry," he muttered, "I am sorry."

Pell hugged her knees and leaned against the wall, acting as if Brodrin didn't exist.

They stayed like that for a long time with Brodrin awkwardly hugging Pell and her, treating him like he was a mosquito she hadn't yet noticed. Her arms hung from her sides, as if incapable of movement. Yet, Brodrin hugged tightly, trying to convey without words how sorry he was. With every second he wanted his embrace to tell her he knew it was all his fault. He wanted every tug of his arms to tell her how he'd give anything to take Kaylor's place. Each time he exhaled and Pell could feel his chest rise, he wanted to somehow make those breaths explain why he'd done what he did, that they had breathed life back into him just by existing.

"I'll go."

Pell looked at him through glazed eyes.

Brodrin then got up and made his way towards the door.

"We'll come back from this," she said. "Eventually we'll come back."

He turned back to her and nodded without looking at her.

Then he exited the room and walked a bit down the hall until he found his room. When he got inside, he walked over to a corner of the room. Then, as if finally letting go after holding his breath for a lifetime, he cried. The tears streamed down his face as fast as they could come. His whimpers were soft, and his sobs were long. It hurt, but it felt good.


End file.
